


Stormseeker: Nexus of Souls

by Serriya (Keolah)



Series: Codex Veritatum [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Old World of Darkness, Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic
Genre: Alternate Hogwarts House Sorting, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Bisexual Male Character, Immortality, M/M, POV First Person, Paganism, Present Tense, Ritual Magic, Runes, Slytherin, Soul Bond, Time Loop, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 20:26:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 107,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9341867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keolah/pseuds/Serriya
Summary: Time traveling Sith Lord, Darth Revan, having returned to the past where he was once known as Harry Potter, is entering his second year at Hogwarts. He discovers that the universe is not quite as he thought it was, and that he'd wound up in a universe slightly different than the one he'd been in before. And a particularly unnerving Defense professor has him worried about the future.





	1. Spinning Webs

My name is Lexen Skywalker Chelseer, Darth Revan, and Harry Potter. I have some pretentious titles, but let's skip that part. I've just finished my first year at Hogwarts for what's probably the thousandth time even if I don't remember them all much, and returned home to my Welsh manor, Caer Danas. As I'm putting my belongings away in my room, I'm interrupted by one of my housemates.

"So, when do I get my own lightsaber?" Gellert asks, bouncing around like the kid he looks like.

"I'll get some more parts built, don't worry," I say. "So, you want to be a Sith?"

"Absolutely." He grins toothily.

"You know, 'Darth Gellert' just sounds kind of silly," I comment. "'Darth Grindelwald' isn't much better."

"Shoosh. Besides, I'm Gerard now. Gerard. Geraaaaard." He makes a funny face. "It'll take some more getting used to, and you better not slip, either. Cassie and Brax got it easy using names common for their backgrounds. Not a lot of Gellerts in Britain."

"Okay, right, Gerard," I say. "Silly of me to ever think otherwise. You're just a cute, innocent ickle Muggleborn. Who would ever think you're a big, bad, dark lord?" I snort softly. "Also, 'Darth Gerard' sounds even worse."

"I hadn't really thought about it," he says. "Promise I'll come up with something by the time you get me a lightsaber."

"Do you have your ominous black robes yet?" I ask.

"I'll have my Hogwarts uniform soon."

"Close enough."

"Never underestimate the power of the Dark Side," Gerard says, making a ridiculous pose. "Speaking of which, when are we going to do the ritual to bond me?"

"I wasn't aware that we'd agreed to do such a ritual," I say wryly.

"Oh, come on," Gerard says, pouting. "This is _better_ than selling my soul to a demon!"

"You ever considered selling your soul to a demon?" I ask.

"Well, no," Gerard says. "I mean, I weighed the options once and determined that it was a fucking terrible idea and not worth the price, but anyway. This is different. Also, it'll drive me mad if I'm constantly hearing you and the others complain about some stupid thing that got you killed and having no idea what you're talking about. And you having to regularly explain everything to me would probably drive you mad too. I mean, more mad than you already are, of course."

"And more mad than _you_ already are?" I smirk.

"Yeah, yeah, we're all mad here," he says. "But I'd have to be just plain stupid to pass up the opportunity. It sounds like you've had some wild adventures, and probably killed quite a lot of people along the way."

I roll my eyes. "Just a _few_. Sith's blood, do you want me to regale you with old war stories now?"

"Nah." He pauses. "Well, you can if you want to. If you remember any, at least." He grins.

"Some, at least," I say. "Before I came back here, I was gallivanting across the galaxy and kicking everyone's asses along the way to make my point. And using mind control to get out of paying docking fees."

"Anyway, seriously." He leans against the table. "I've been perusing _Secrets of the Darkest Art_ , pretentious name for a book if there ever was one. Turns out the Black libraries didn't have a copy, but there was one in the headmaster's office at Hogwarts. Rispy grabbed it for me. I've rebuilt the ritual based on the soul bond rituals described in it, and what you and Cassie told me of one performed on Beltane. I believe I can do this. Come on, I'm not above begging."

I grin wryly. "Well, I was just pulling your leg about being undecided, but it might be funny to see you grovel."

He holds up his hands and snickers. "You need to stop doing that."

"The little deceptions are just practice for the big ones," I say.

"Like that deception about how you're ha-ha only serious about being a Dark Lord and wanting to take over the world?"

"Just because people don't believe me doesn't mean it's a lie."

"The truth makes for the best lies," Gerard says.

"So what do you think would be the best time to do it?" I ask. "We already have plans for the Summer Solstice, although I'm sure we could squeeze you in there somehow. Do you want to try for Lammas, or wait for the Equinox or Samhain?"

"Let's go for Lammas," he says, straightening. "I want to get this done before we start school, but I still want to double-check a few things first, and I'd rather not do it on the Solstice."

After being run a little ragged on trying to get things done on each holiday this past year, I'd decided that, since we had nothing immediately pressing going on, I'd rather just spend this Summer Solstice celebrating. Celebrating being together with my friends, and just being alive. That's a good enough reason, isn't it? Despite everything that's happened, I'm happy. It's hard not to be.

* * *

"Hey, Harry!" Sirius exclaims, strolling into the Great Hall of Caer Danas with another shaggy man in tow. "I'd like you to meet someone!"

I look up from my reading and examine the man. His scruffy chin looks like he hasn't shaved in a few days, but his brown hair is neatly combed back against his head. He's wearing a pinstriped gray suit and pants, but his clothes are old and worn, looking to have been patched together many times to the point that even magic can't quite hold them together.

"Hello, Harry," the man says. "I'm Remus Lupin."

A flashback rushes through my mind, momentarily drowning out his words. _His face twists and contorts, his body grows large and furry. Teeth tear into my skin. Pain. Pain. My veins burn. The moon calls to me…_

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you. You've gotten so big since I last saw you."

"Yeah," I mutter distantly. "Yeah. Nice to meet you."

"Harry, are you alright?" Remus says. "What has this old dog been telling you about me?"

"Not much, really," I say.

"Relax," Remus says. "I won't bite."

I wince.

"And if he does bite, he doesn't have rabies," Sirius adds cheerfully.

I snort softly. "So, Remus, will you be staying here, too?"

"I wouldn't want to impose," Remus says. "I have—"

"—a terrible, run-down flat that leaks and is only slightly an improvement over the house I grew up in," Sirius says. "If only because it's not full of dark artifacts."

"There's plenty of room here," I say. "This manor is bigger than I could use myself. It could comfortably house dozens of people. Pick a room and move your stuff in."

"Well, I suppose, if you think it's alright…"

Sirius grins mischievously. "And don't you think there should be some more adult supervision here?"

Remus sighs and puts his face in his palm. "You mean some adult supervision at all?"

"Well, Tom's here too," Sirius says. "He definitely counts, right?"

"Tom?" Remus repeats, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah! You remember, our old dorm mate?"

Remus frowns. "I don't remember a 'Tom'…"

"Oh, come on," Sirius says. "How could you forget about Tom? He was one of our best mates! Certainly a better mate than that dirty rat turned out to be."

"Er…" I mutter, glancing about. I don't know where Tom might be right now, but his habit of trying to cover everything with memory modification is going to bite him in the ass like I figured it would. He weaves a web of lies, and it worries me. I've been down that road before. I don't want to get caught up in _his_ web either, if I can help myself.

"I was never best mates with a 'Tom'," Remus says. "Was this one of your wild drinking friends you'd swill firewhiskey with when you didn't think anyone was looking?"

"Well… Maybe once or twice."

"In that case, I feel obligated to be the responsible adult here," Remus says with a sigh. "I will bring my belongings over tomorrow."

Would the truth really benefit anyone, though? Would the truth even make sense in a manner that could be explained? It doesn't even make sense to me. Maybe if what I'm doing doesn't even make sense to me, I'm doing something wrong.

" _Obliviate,_ " Tom's voice behind me whispers. "Remus!" he says aloud, strolling into the room. "I'd wondered where you'd gotten off to."

Remus stares blankly at him for a long moment before finally saying, "Tom? Oh! _Now_ I remember you! It's been so long, it entirely slipped my mind for a moment there."

I sigh inwardly. "Hey, Tom. How's that project coming?"

"It's really not," Tom says. "I keep hitting dead ends."

"What project are you working on?" Remus asks. "Perhaps I could help."

"Well, that depends," I say. "Do you know anything about temporal mechanics and alternate universes?"

"Ah, no," Remus says. "I'll leave that to you, then. That sounds like the sort of business the Department of Mysteries would get up to."

"Yeah," I say. "And I don't trust the Ministry as far as I can curse it. So we're doing our own research. Admittedly, I don't think I'm much help here as I'm pretty clueless in the actual mechanics of it, but someone's got to tell him when he's failing to consider something that would be obvious to a twelve-year-old."

"You're still eleven," Sirius points out.

"For another two days!" I retort.

"So is this what you've been up to?" Remus asks. "You're not interested in Quidditch or anything like your father?"

"Quidditch is stupid and I'm rubbish at flying," I say. "No, this is Tom's project. I'm interested in fencing and making things!"

Remus gives a wry grin. "I seem to have heard something about you being interested in politics, too."

"Oh, right, that," I say, casually waving my hand. "Yeah, I'll probably take over the world later, if only to kick the incompetent, corrupt bureaucrats out of the Ministry."

"Can hardly argue with that," Sirius says.

"I'll be in the library if anyone needs me," Tom says, wandering off down the hallway.

"Did Sirius tell you the project I spent most of this past school year on?" I ask, gesturing to him to come over.

"He did not," Remus says, going to take a seat at the table across from me.

"Oh, you've got to see this, it's so cool." I pull out my lightsaber and activate it, the blue blade whooshing into existence past the hilt.

"A lightsaber?" Remus says. "Really? Does it work?"

"Absolutely," I say, posing with it a bit before deactivating it and setting it down on the table.

"If it behaves like a real lightsaber, that would be an awfully dangerous thing to have in the hands of an almost-twelve-year-old."

"Ah, don't worry, I can handle it," I say. "I was the best in my year in Fencing Club." Notwithstanding Bridget keeping trying to correct my grip and criticize my form. To be entirely fair, my form was centered around lightsaber combat, not with real swords.

Remus chuckles. "Well, as you say, young Padawan. But I will be quite cross if you cut off your own hand with that."

My expression brightens at that. "You know _Star Wars_?"

"Certainly," Remus says. "It came out while my friends and I were in school. I dragged them all out to a Muggle cinema to see it." He grins sidelong at Sirius. "Sirius and your father went in robes. Nobody noticed. At least Peter and Tom were sensible enough to wear more suitable Muggle attire."

"My friends all want one, of course," I say. "Especially the Muggleborns. I told them they need to work on their fencing first."

"Sensible." Remus picks up the lightsaber and examines it. "You designed and built that all yourself?"

"Yup!" I say. "I've always been good with machines."

"Where did you ever find a power source for it?" Remus wonders.

"Bill Weasley pointed us to an ancient cave full of magic crystals. He found it through his own contacts—ah, he's a Gringotts cursebreaker, older brother of one of my friends."

"How are you doing in school? Which House did you end up in? Gryffindor like us?"

"Well enough," I say, chuckling. "No, I'm in Slytherin. I drive Snape crazy with my antics."

"Snape? Severus Snape? _He's_ teaching?"

"I know, right?" Sirius says.

"I'm rubbish at Potions, but I'm doing okay with everything else," I say. "One of my friends is a real stickler for studying. She'd go spare if I managed to fail anything. Not that I'd be so lazy as to do such a thing. Knowledge is power, after all."

"Are you being treated well, in Slytherin House?" Remus asks.

"Certainly," I say. "I mean, they were a little shocked at first. They've got a Weasley, a Muggleborn, and the 'Boy-Who-Lived'," I roll my eyes at that stupid title, "in my year. I think they weren't entirely sure which of those they were supposed to feel most outraged at and just kind of gave up at it once we actually had some classes and showed our stuff. By the end of the year, nobody seemed to think twice about it."

"And my daughter will be starting next year!" Sirius says brightly. "I wonder where she'll wind up."

"You have a daughter?" Remus asks, looking at him in surprise.

"She should be around here somewhere," Sirius says. "Cassie's a bright girl. Probably destined for Ravenclaw."

Remus puts his face in his palm. "I suppose it shouldn't be surprising that you wound up with a daughter, with as many girls as you slept with. Dare I even ask which one is the mother?"

"Hey, I slept with plenty of boys, too," Sirius says. "But I'd be awfully surprised if one of _them_ turned out to be a mother."

"Guys, do I really need to hear this?" I say.

Sirius clears his throat. "Anyway, it was Emma. You remember her? Chaser on the Quidditch team?"

"A Muggleborn?" Remus says. "I'm sure your mother would be in tears."

"Good thing she doesn't have any say in the matter," Sirius says cheerfully.

"Is anyone else living here I should know about?" Remus asks.

"Gerard," Sirius says. "Muggleborn orphan we took in. He's a good kid. A real joker." He grins widely. "Maybe we'll even have another generation of Marauders on our hands here."

"This place could definitely use some more parental supervision and good role models," Remus says. "This is a lot to take in at once. I suppose part of that is my own fault for keeping to myself for so long. But I didn't think wizards would generally want to associate much with… well…"

"A werewolf?" I fill in.

"Not to put a fine point on it, but yes," Remus says. "Did Sirius tell you that?"

"I didn't breathe a word," Sirius says.

"Tom mentioned it," I say.

"Well, don't worry," Remus says. "I'm not going to hurt anyone, superstition or otherwise."

"Promise?" I may not remember much of the details, but the pain of that flashback is still fresh in my mind.

"I promise," Remus says with a small smile.

"Come on, let's go introduce you to Cassie," Sirius says.

As they go off to do that, I head down the hallway to the library to see Tom. I put up some spells to protect the door and go over and take a seat across from him.

"Revan," he says.

"Voldemort," I reply flatly, and sigh. "How far are you going to keep this up?"

"As far as I have to," Voldemort says. "It's too late to back down now."

"You know there's going to be more people your cover identity won't work on. Like Dumbledore, and the Hogwarts professors."

He closes the book he was perusing and pushes it aside. "Then what would you suggest, Revan? I'm certainly not going to tell them who I actually am. And they will question it if I am some unrelated wizard that they don't know squatting in this house for no apparent reason."

I pause thoughtfully, then reply quietly, "You could claim to be my foster father."

He looks at me appraisingly for a moment before saying, "Did you not claim to be raised by Muggles?"

I snort softly. "If you're going to be modifying people's memories anyway, what's one more lie?"

"Dumbledore would _still_ know the difference," Voldemort points out.

"Yeah, maybe that's not such a good idea after all. How about Gellert's dad?"

"He's claiming to be a Muggleborn orphan," Voldemort says.

"Uhh… his older brother?"

"We don't even _look_ related."

"His older half-brother?"

Voldemort rolls his eyes. "You are reaching here, Revan. I could simply go somewhere else."

"No," I say firmly. "This would be simpler if you looked younger. Then you could just claim to be another orphan we picked up and go to Hogwarts with us."

"I am not going to Hogwarts again," Voldemort says. "You lot might find it entertaining, but I have already been through there once and I do not care to repeat the experience. The only reason I would go there would be to gain allies, and you already seem to have that covered well enough."

"What sort of cover story would fool Dumbledore, though?" I say with a sigh. "This is what you get when you weave lies, especially when you spin a ridiculous cover story that doesn't hold up to scrutiny."

"Revan, I falsified school records," Voldemort says. "I modified the memories of most of the teachers and many of those who would have been students at that time. I was quite thorough."

"But not Dumbledore."

"Surely even Dumbledore cannot remember every single student. At any rate, I will get him as well if I can get the opportunity. Since you seem so vehement on me not killing him."

"So what's your cover name? Surely not Tom Riddle."

"I am Thomas Hawke." He taps a finger on the table. "It seemed the most suitable thing to come to mind."

"Hawke?" I repeat. "Alright then. I guess you've guarded your ports as well as can be expected."

"I will avoid scrutiny from Dumbledore if I can," Voldemort says. "I will not remain in this world forever. My destiny extends beyond this sphere."

I nod. "True. You only need to keep up the ruse long enough to find a way to finish your project."

"I will find a way to trace those pieces of soul to find this other version of myself, one way or another," Voldemort says. "That's all that's important right now."

* * *

"Hermione will be going to Diagon Alley with us," I say, sifting through the post. "And there's the book list."

"Hermione?" Remus queries as he takes the parchment I hand him.

"One of my classmates," I say. "Muggleborn. Her parents find magic interesting but a little overwhelming. It's not really their world. They let her come over when she wants and she spends the holidays we don't share with them here."

"The holidays we don't share?" Remus asks.

"Yeah," I say. "She spends Christmas and Easter at her own home, but comes over here for the pagan holidays. She'll be staying here over Lammas before heading back home."

"I didn't realize you celebrated the pagan holidays," Remus says, then glances aside to Sirius.

"Hey, while I'll grab at any opportunity to have a party, I had nothing to do with this," Sirius says.

Remus snorts softly. "You would have abandoned your own family's traditions if it hadn't meant giving up the idea of Beltane festivals."

"Well, it's not like I learned all their dark rituals, but no reason to cut out the fun parts too," Sirius says.

"You didn't learn your family's rituals?" I ask, frowning.

"Believe me, there was nothing I wanted to keep," Sirius says. "And what little I do know, I am in no way going to expose Cassie to."

He still doesn't realize Cassie isn't really his daughter? Well, it's probably just as well, and it's not my secret to keep. Everyone's wearing their own masks. It's simpler that nobody knows about it who doesn't need to. Although, all things considered, I have to wonder if he doesn't just like the idea of having a daughter in the first place. Well, at least I'm actually Harry Potter and don't need to lie about that. Although it means apparently I had different parents in this universe. Alternate universes are weird.

On my birthday, the six of us head to Diagon Alley, two adults and four children. Tom opted to stay behind, claiming that he had much research to be doing, but most likely because he didn't care to be seen in public just yet.

When we get to Flourish and Blotts bookstore to pick up our course books, two sets for second year and two sets for first year, we notice that both years were assigned the same book for Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"What even is this thing?" Cassie says, peering at it in some confusion. "Are these… potion recipes in here?"

"No…" Hermione says, paling as she skims her book. "They're instructions for how to make explosives out of common household ingredients. Common _Muggle_ household ingredients. Most wizarding homes probably don't even have these things! Why would someone give us such a thing?"

"Eh, could be worse," says the store clerk. "At least the books aren't trying to literally bite you."

"I suppose there must be some good reason for it," I say. "I mean, we might wind up stuck in a situation where it's necessary to know how to handle ourselves in the Muggle world. Besides, it's not like they aren't teaching us how to blow things up in Potions class, too."

"Frequently by accident," Hermione says, looking at me with a smirk.

"Hey, at least I didn't put tofu in my cauldron like that one girl."

* * *

Once we get home and we've put our school supplies away, I pull Gellert aside.

"So, how do you want to do this ritual?" I ask. "Do we need a circle? What time of day would work best?"

"We only need the two of us," Gellert says. "That's how most demonic pacts are generally done."

"But I'm not a demon," I say.

"Dark Lord, same difference," Gellert says. "Sith," he chuckles. "There's some who call us Nephandi, too. Whatever the terminology, this is basically demonic magic. The darkest of human magic has nothing to do with it. Human magic doesn't deal with souls. It can't."

"Understood," I say.

"So I'm effectively selling my soul for the sake of immortality," Gellert says with a snort. "A younger version of me would think I'm crazy for even considering it. That was a me who hadn't wasted half his life in prison, only to be given a second chance by someone I hadn't even met, as though it were just a taste of what could be mine like a drug dealer to a future addict."

"Well, when you put it like that…"

"Anyway, best time to do this would be the hour of midnight tomorrow night. We'll only need the two of us, but some preparations would help. Is there a suitable place for performing the ritual? A cellar, hidden room, or a nearby cave, maybe?"

"There's a cave underneath the house," I say.

"Show me," Gellert says. "I wonder if it was once used as a ritual cave. I'll be able to sense if there's any lingering magic there."

"Well, Voldemort used it with a a curse complex in an attempt to kill me last year," I say as I head for the double glass doors in the great hall leading out into the gardens.

"Oh, that's splendid," Gellert says with a snort. "I'll have to see if there's any residual energy I'll have to clean up first."

"Yeah, me and Bill Weasley disabled the curses, but I don't know if there's any lingering traces," I say. "I didn't sense anything significant last time I was down there, though."

It's a hot, scorching summer day. The sun blazes down as though this were the Dune Sea of Tatooine, hindered only by the lush green leaves of the trees in the garden. Dobby has been quite busy out here, as he has in the rest of the house, cleaning things up and tending to the plants, replacing a few of them that were beyond hope. There's a rough path between the shrubberies leading down to the cave.

"Wonder why whoever built this house didn't include the cave entrance in the house itself," Gellert says. "Probably wanted to provide a buffer, though."

I light my wand as we head inside. The cave is blissfully cool against the summer heat. Down at the bottom, there's a roughly circular cavern, where I once faced off against Quirrellmort in an alternate timeline that led to the cave collapsing on top of me. The curses are long gone now, though, and yet there's still a feeling about the Force in this cave. The Dark Side lingers here.

"Hmm," Gellert says, looking around. "Yeah, there's still some traces here, either of the curses you mentioned or of rituals long past. I don't think it's anything that will interfere, though. I'll get things set up in the morning so we can be ready for the midnight ritual. There's plenty of various candles in the house, but do you happen to have any skulls laying around? Preferably human ones, but animal skulls would do in a pinch."

"Not to my knowledge, but you're welcome to look," I say. "I still haven't gone over the whole house with a deep sensor scan yet."

"You should get to that when you get a chance," Gellert says. "You've wasted half the summer already."

"Hey, I _was_ spending the summer being productive. And some of that time was spent looking around the house. But the place is bigger than it looks and I feel like I'm going to keep running across things I didn't know were there even years later. It doesn't help that these old wizarding buildings tend to ignore the laws of physics and put rooms where none of them should fit. Can't even properly map the place."

"Yeah, they tend to do that," Gellert says. "Might even be catacombs down there somewhere. Possibly full of undead."

I snort softly. "If there are undead in my basement, you're also welcome to either destroy them or put them to good use provided they don't bother me, 'kay?"

"Will do!"

"And, one more thing," I say, turning to him and sobering. "If we're going to do this, I want to make one thing abundantly clear." I narrow my eyes at him without humor. "You. Will. _Never_. Betray me."

"Got it," he says hurriedly, his eyes momentarily widening.

I smile and let my dark expression drop. "Now, let's go get some dinner. I'm starved."

* * *

After some pleasant festivities with my friends during the day, I take a nap in the evening and slip down to the ritual cave at night. Even at midnight, the oppressive heat still hangs over the garden, slowly fading with the falling of night. Within the cave, though, it's almost bone-chillingly cold, not so much temperature-wise, but with the chill of the grave. Ominous black candles have been set at the edges of a circle of runes engraved into the floor of the cave, along with human skulls. I have no idea where he got the skulls on short notice. I'm not sure that I want to ask.

"Alright," I say. "Last chance to back out."

"Not a chance in hell," Gellert says.

"Then let's get ready."

"Here." He passes a piece of parchment over to me. "These are the words you'll need to use."

"I'll be the one performing the ritual?"

He nods. "You're the one bonding me, after all, not the other way around. That's your right. Although after that stunt you pulled at Beltane, I'm not sure if I could succeed in forcibly bonding you anyway." He pulls out a knife. "And here's the ritual knife. We'll both need to shed our blood and let it pour into these runes."

"This isn't quite like the Beltane ritual," I say.

"Yeah, he was getting his power from a different source, and using the connection you had with those children," Gellert says. "And, no doubt, trying to trick you with a ritual that looked like something else. I'm not trying to hide what I'm doing here. And blood is the simplest way to accomplish what we're trying to do here."

I nod and take the knife from him, and carefully memorize the words on the parchment he gave me. Strange, demonic words of some long-forgotten, unearthly tongue. And yet, even these words are distantly familiar to me, even if it takes more effort to bring them to mind.

"Well," I comment. "Apparently, I'm passingly fluent in whatever language this is too."

"Infernal," Gellert says, snickering. "And that's hardly surprising, given your background. Or foreground. Whichever."

"That's terrible," I mutter, rolling my eyes.

Gellert takes his position and kneels inside the circle of runes. For all his assurances as to why he's doing this, I have to wonder if he's trying to convince _himself_ here more than anyone else. Despite the cool, unflappable, carefree attitude he puts on, I can tell that he's secretly terrified inside. This could all go horribly wrong. I could turn out to be more of a cruel lord than he believes I am. He's putting a lot of faith in me.

The hour of midnight ticks over. I can sense it, almost imperceptibly, either through my innate Time Magic or being merely in tune with the Force, but either way, I know it's time. I cut my palm and allow my blood to run out to fill the carved runes, glowing in blue as I chant the Infernal words of the ritual. I hand the knife to Gellert, who does likewise, his blood mingling with my own. Motes of red and blue drift into the air around us, heady with the Force.

Pain wrenches at my soul, and Gellert winces and clenches his teeth as well. But this pain is hardly a drop in the bucket next to how badly things went when Voldemort tried to kill me on Beltane. And when it's done, and the roaring Force fades around us, I can… sense him there. I realize I can sense all of them, actually. Voldemort, and Cassie, and Rispy as well. I couldn't pinpoint where they are, but I can tell they're all alive and well.

"Well," Gellert says, looking down at the faintly flickering runes. "That's done. I'm immortal now?"

"You certainly should be," I say. "But I can always murder you to test it." I grin wickedly at him and pick up the knife he'd left on the ground.

"Eeegh." He jumps back in surprise, as much as he can at any rate from where he's still kneeling.

"What, only way to be sure, right?" I laugh softly. "If something went wrong, I can always tell you that so you can fix it. Better to find out now than later when I might not still be able to correct it, right?" I lean forward and clamp my right hand down on his shoulder and hold the knife in front of him with my left.

"You know," he says slowly. "I really should have expected and been better prepared for this part."

"You'll never be able to face death without fear until you know its grip can't hold you," I say.

"You are an evil, evil man, Darth Revan," Gellert says. "And it is totally hot. Are you single?"

I laugh aloud and cut his throat. His blood pours out all over me and onto the cavern floor, filling up the runes again. I don't stick around long enough to watch and see what happens, though, as I do the same to myself.

* * *

Gellert walks into my room as I wake from my nap. "It… worked. It actually did work."

I grin and climb to my feet. "Did you doubt me?"

He pauses. "A little."

"As for your question," I say, pinning him with a gaze and a wry grin. "Were you serious?"

"Uhhh…"

"Well, doesn't really matter." I shrug. "I don't think I'm _capable_ of simple, normal relationships, whatever those are supposed to be. This Jedi woman I was dating kept getting jealous about the way I looked at my male friends and it was incredibly stupid and jealousy is stupid."

Gellert opens his mouth and closes it a few times before finally saying, "Yeah. That, I can understand."

"Besides," I say. "We're eleven."

"You're twelve."

"Whatever." I snicker. "Either way, we can wait and figure things out along the way, right?"

"Splendid plan," Gellert says. "This whole time travel thing is wild, too. It must be damned convenient to perform a ritual and then not have to perform it again. Or, hell, be _able_ to perform it again for greater effect if you want."

Voldemort comes into the room. "Revan, what did you do?"

"Bonded Gellert," I say. "Killed him to see if it worked, then killed myself."

Voldemort raises an eyebrow. "I see. Did it?"

"Yes," Gellert says.

"Let me make certain that this was done properly, at least," Voldemort says.

Gellert snorts softly. "I probably know more about Soul Magic than you, you know. You were a child playing at things you didn't fully understand."

Voldemort rolls his eyes. "I do not care to argue the point, and it seems to have been done acceptably well."

"It should be!" Gellert says. "Didn't you take a look yourself? _I_ was the one who made two of those bonds originally. They've got my magical signature all over them. So was Rispy's. That's got mine, yours, and Cassie's in it. No wonder it was so strong, coupled with his unwavering loyalty."

"Wait, he told me _he'd_ done them," I say.

"He lied, then," Gellert says.

"And are you to believe _this_ Dark Lord, instead?" Voldemort asks.

I look to Gellert, then to Voldemort, then back to Gellert again. "Yes."

"Ugh," Voldemort says, turning toward the door. "I will get back to work. Fortunately for you, this foolishness did not waste me any time." He leaves the room in a huff.

"Now, that?" Gellert says to me. "That, I think is jealousy."


	2. Familiar Faces

September rolls around, and we go to King's Cross Station to take the Hogwarts Express back to school.

"Be sure to write!" Sirius says. "All three of you!"

"Yes, we will be eager to hear how your studies are coming along," Remus says.

"And what house you wind up in!" Sirius adds.

I snicker, then say to Remus, "Keep Tom and Sirius out of trouble, will you?"

Remus grins. "Of course."

I board the train along with Cassie and Gerard, and we settle into a compartment along with Hermione and Ron.

"How's things with your family, Ron? I didn't see you at Lammas," I say. "They still upset that you're in Slytherin?"

"Better than I'd expected, really," Ron says. "Though I think Fred and George might have had something to do with that. I went over to the Malfoys' place for Lammas."

"Ah," I say. "What else did you do this summer?"

"Quidditch. Studying. Practicing stuff when I thought I could get away with it," Ron says.

"I never would have thought you would spend more time studying than playing around," Hermione says.

"Well, it beat constantly feeling slightly awkward around my family," Ron says.

"You could have come over to my place, or the Malfoys' place," I say.

Ron shrugs. "Can't avoid my family forever. At least I was in the house and eating with them. And the twins and Ginny were great. She's better at Quidditch than you'd imagine, too."

"I'll take your word on that," I say with a smirk.

"You and your Quidditch," Hermione says with a snort. "I spent the summer studying Ancient Runes."

"But you can't even take that as an elective until next year," Ron says.

"I wanted to get a head start," Hermione says. "Besides, the beginning material for it seemed easy enough. I've tried some basic runic formations and they've all worked for me."

"Oh! That's wonderful," Cassie says. "Can I see your notes?"

"Sure," Hermione says. "I'll pull them out of my trunk once we get to school."

"Great!"

"I thought you couldn't do magic outside of school," Ron says. "I mean, those of us living in wizarding houses can get away with it, so it just kind of seems like a way to punish Muggleborns."

"So far as I can tell, only wanded magic will tip them off," Hermione says. "That doesn't seem to count potions or ritual magic, so I've been practicing at those." She glances over to me. "Have you been practicing your potions, Harry?"

"Uhhh… not one drop," I admit.

Hermione sighs and rolls her eyes. "You are either going to lose us points for Slytherin House or get yourself detentions again, or both."

"Probably," I say.

We arrive at Hogsmeade and travel up to the castle, in carts pulled by skeletal winged creatures. Why would they have winged creatures pull these carts if we're not going to fly?

"Black, Cassiopeia!"

Cassie goes up to the front and puts on the Sorting Hat, flashing a smile at the room. After a few minutes, the Hat calls out, "SLYTHERIN!"

"Boltwood, Gerard!"

Now it's Gerards turn. He practically skips forward, his own grin wild and mischievous. The Hat doesn't even hesitate to yell, "SLYTHERIN!"

Cassie and Gerard sit across from me, the both of them bouncing with energy. I would have never expected them to be so happy to be here, going to school again and pretending to be real children. But then, to them, this is their second chance at life. I suppose I'd feel the same, in their position.

"Welcome to Slytherin," Draco says.

"We have the best desserts," Theodore adds.

"Glad to be here," Cassie says wholeheartedly.

"Especially for the desserts," Gerard says. "When do we eat?"

"When the Sorting is done," Hermione says.

After several more students, McGonagall says, "Lovegood, Luna!"

A dreamy-eyed blonde girl goes up front and gets sorted into Slytherin after several minutes of deliberation. That leaves me raising an eyebrow. Some faint memory tells me that she was once in Ravenclaw. I knew her before? She certainly seems familiar, aside from having spoken with her through cryptic letters. She comes over to take a seat next to the others. Surely she could have been in Slytherin before, too. All it takes is a slight difference in mind state, right? Right?

"Hello, Stormseeker," Luna says.

And yet, I only have to smile at seeing her here. Whatever her house, those distant feelings tell me nothing but friendship for her. Never in a million years was she my enemy, no matter what madness befell us. Was this really just a shift in mental state, or did she come to Slytherin for me?

"Malfoy, Abraxas!"

It comes as no surprise that Brax gets sorted into Slytherin, and comes over to join us.

"Weasley, Ginny!"

"There's my sister," Ron says quietly. "Probably bound for Gryffindor with the rest of them."

"Maybe she'll surprise you," I put in.

"Last time you said that, we got Ron here," Draco says.

It takes several minutes, the Hat shouts, "SLYTHERIN!"

"What did I tell you?" I say.

"There's no way you could have guessed that," Theodore says. "Have you even met her before?"

Ginny comes over to the Slytherin table and sits next to Ron. "Now you're not the only Weasley in Slytherin."

"I would like to introduce our new teacher for Defense Against the Dark Arts," Dumbledore says, gesturing toward a hard-faced young man wearing a dragonhide longcoat. "Professor Falk."

My heart fall through my stomach and my blood runs cold. Surely it's a coincidence. The name Falk isn't that rare, right? This couldn't possibly be the man who very nearly destroyed the multiverse. Could it? And yet, as I peer at him from across the room, I recognize his features. This is, indeed, the one from the vision I had seen. The vision of the terrible future that was averted.

"Harry?" whispers Ron at my side. "You look like you've seen a ghost. You know this bloke?"

"Hoping to the Dark Side and back that he's not who I think he is," I breathe.

I can't even manage to touch my food. I try to sit tight at least until the feast is over before I go to talk to Dumbledore. Surely Falk isn't about to destroy the universe before bedtime, right? My stomach churns as I stare down at the roast in front of me.

"Harry, breathe," Hermione says. "You're hyperventilating."

"What's wrong?" Draco asks.

"Professor Falk," I murmur.

"Why, who is he?" Draco wonders.

I take a deep breath. "You know what, I can't just sit here. I'm going to go talk to Dumbledore and see if I can't get our new _professor_ fired. Or better, staked, beheaded, _then_ set on fire."

"Wait, what?" Draco says as I get up and leave the table.

I stride straight up to the head table, and lean in beside Dumbledore. "We need to talk. Now."

"My boy, we're in the middle of dinner."

"You've interrupted my dinner before," I whisper. "This is critically important."

"Very well," Dumbledore says, then turns to the other teachers. "Pardon me." He gets up and leads me off to his office. Once we're inside, he says, "I trust you have a very good reason for this, Harry."

I nod shakily. "It's— It's Falk."

"Professor Falk," Dumbledore corrects me.

I scowl. "He should not be a professor and I will not dignify him with that appellation."

"You know of him?"

"Yes," I breathe. "Yes, I have."

"Harry, your hands are trembling," Dumbledore says. "I've never seen you this upset about something. Sherbet lemon?" He offers me a bowl of candy.

"Laced with Calming Draught I take it?" I comment, then pop one in my mouth.

"Asher Falk is a good man," Dumbledore says. "I would very much like to know what has you so terrified of the man."

"Vampire," I say. "Not a man. A vampire."

"You are aware of his condition, then, but he has done nothing but attempt to keep other vampires in check, as well as other dangerous magical creatures from time to time."

"He— He…" How do I even explain it? "He effectively destroyed the world."

"In the future?" Dumbledore raises an eyebrow. "Harry, you cannot punish people for crimes they have yet to commit. _This_ Asher Falk has done nothing to yet warrant your antagonism."

I let out a heavy sigh and bury my face in my hands. "Fuck, I hate that you have a point. Fuck. I want him dead before he has a chance to even think about hurting anyone. Destroying their freedoms, even their freedom to think and act for themselves. Destroying magic itself. I want to fucking stop this before it ever happens. I know what he's capable of. _Fuck._ "

"Harry, he has not done any of those things yet," Dumbledore says gently. "You can't know that they will, either."

Tears sting my eyes. "Even the possibility is too much." I shake my head vehemently and grab another piece of candy.

"If you are afraid of what he may do in the future, then do what you can to avert it," Dumbledore says, placing his hand upon my shoulder. "Keep an eye on him, certainly. Would you be willing to tell me what he will have done in the future that you saw?"

"He effectively destroyed magic, as well as tried to shut down alternate timelines," I say. "I don't understand why he did it, beyond unreasonable hatred. I stopped him, fuck I stopped him, but the price was high. Fuck!" A third candy goes into my mouth.

"You know, it is possible to overdose on Calming Draught," Dumbledore says. "Although it would take quite a bit more than three sweets containing a very small amount."

"Fuck, maybe if I overdosed on it I would pass out and the world would be better when I woke up."

"You know it doesn't work like that," Dumbledore says.

I shake my head. "I should have expected this. I should have reasonably known there was a chance I would run across him again. That he wasn't just some figment of a fucking failed future."

"I feel like I should be discouraging your language, but I doubt you would listen to an admonishment over swearing, regardless."

"Fudge, then?" I smirk. "Shall I use the name of our esteemed Minister of Magic as an expletive?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkle. "If it pleases you."

"Look, I'm— I'm sorry about interrupting the feast," I say. "We should probably get back to that. But, I will be watching Falk like a hawk, and I will be digging into anything he may be doing or have been doing, and if I find anything dirty…"

"…then you will come to me with it, I hope."

"Depends, but don't hold your breath," I say. "I'm not afraid of getting my hands bloody if it means someone else doesn't have to pay the price for my inaction."

* * *

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts," Gemma Farley, the sixth year Slytherin prefect is telling us as we settle into our common room. "And welcome to all the first years who will be joining us in Slytherin House this year. This house will effectively be your family for the next seven years while you are at school. Slytherins stick by one another. If you have a disagreement with another housemate, you are welcome to take it up in private, but present a unified front when in public. If you have any questions or need any help with anything, please come to me or another prefect, or go to our head of house, Professor Snape. Thank you, and welcome again."

I'm still trying to calm down after the opening feast. I could hardly put any food in my mouth even after I went back, and couldn't give any adequate explanations to my friends. At least the ones who know I'm a time traveler should have some clue.

The first years are talking animatedly, getting to know one another. There's Cassie, Brax, Gerard, Ginny, and Luna. I don't recognize any of the others, unsurprisingly.

Luna looks over to me and approaches. "Hello, Stormseeker. You didn't take well to the appearance of the Scourge. Can I help?"

"Luna," I say slowly. "Sorry, I wasn't sure how to respond to your last letter."

"It's alright," Luna says. "It's a common reaction." She seems to be wearing cashews for earrings. I'm not sure how to react to that, either.

"Fancy seeing you here in Slytherin," I say finally.

"Happy to be here, nargles or otherwise," Luna says. "They would not have treated me well in Ravenclaw."

"Is that so?" I say, raising an eyebrow. "Can I ask why you're wearing cashews for earrings?"

"Yes."

I pause. "Why are you wearing cashews for earrings?"

"Because someone might be allergic to peanuts." She cocks her head at me. "What was the future like, Stormseeker?

My eyes widen in surprise. She knows? _How_ does she know? Surely, I reason, she had to have known _something_ , given her strange, oblique messages about me. But what, and how much? Does she know who Falk is? She calls him the Scourge, and a dire title if I've ever heard one, but what does it mean, and what does she know of him? Much as I'd like to interrogate her in the middle of the common room, I keep my mouth shut.

"I don't know," I say finally, giving a crooked grin.

"That's alright. We can find out together. You are so old, now. Are we still friends?"

"I—" I stare at her, before sighing. "Yes, Luna. Let's be friends. You are likely to alarm and confuse my other friends, though."

She shrugs. "They know you. They should be used to it. You call yourself a Dark Lord, even though you're not a Dark Lord, but the grackles cling to you, feeding upon your aura. Your aura is such a lovely shade of blue, though."

"I just wanted to make sure nobody else could claim the title," I say.

"Your path is not as dark as you claim, though, for all that it's steeped in death," Luna says, seeming to stare right through me. "At least you've been warding off the wrackspurts. I have something that could help with that."

"What are… wrackspurts?" I ask.

"Most people can't see them," Luna says. "They flit around and go into people's heads and make them fuzzy and confused. They make you forget what you're doing and why."

"Oh," I say. "That doesn't sound good. So what can help?"

"Just a moment." Luna goes off to her dorm.

Gerard comes up to me and asks, "Who was that?"

"Luna Lovegood," I reply. "She… has an interesting view of the world. I think she can see things other people can't."

"For someone so young, it'll be no wonder if everyone thinks she's weird," Gerard says. "She'll be in good company. That sort of ability could prove very useful, too."

Luna returns with a long rainbow scarf. "Here," she says. "This is for you. I made it for you last year but I wanted to deliver it in person."

I take the scarf with some confusion and drape it around my neck. "Thanks, Luna. I like it." It's strangely comforting in and of itself, as is Luna. I'm already calmer.

"Well, that's one way to proclaim your sexual orientation," Gerard says lightly.

"Anytime you feel confused or fuzzy, look at the scarf and focus, and clear your mind of distractions," Luna says. "Where the rainbow falls, the shadow can't follow. Being in different times at once must be very confusing. I think you'll need it."

"Perfect for a time traveler," Gerard says. "Just like the Doctor."

"Who?" I wonder, raising an eyebrow.

"Exactly."

"Sith's blood, between the two of you, I'm going to need to ward off confusion _hard_."

"Just don't let those connected to you confuse you too badly," Luna says. "You have four, but as a Time Mage, you will need a Circle of Nine."

"I… see," I say.

"I'm going to go try to clear out the nargles from my dorm room," Luna says, and smiles softly at me. "Farewell for now, Stormseeker." She nods to Gerard. "And you, Dark Phoenix." She turns and heads back to the first year girls' dorm.

"Dark Phoenix, huh?" Gerard says once she's gone. "Yep, she's definitely weird. In the classical sense of the term."

"Nice scarf, though." I take an end of it and look at it, then wrap it around my neck.

* * *

Falk paces in front of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom as he waits for the students to finish filing in and taking our seats. We're not in the classroom we used last year. This one is deeper in the school and has no windows to the outside. The vampire clearly doesn't trust merely to heavy curtains. Wise of him. Once we're all at our desks, he turns to us and looks down at us with unnerving eyes.

"Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts. I am Falk. I will be your teacher this year. You will refer to me as 'Falk'. Not Professor Falk. Not Mr. Falk. Just Falk."

Hermione shifts uneasily in her chair beside me, as if the very thought of being so casual with a teacher is abhorrent to her, even at his explicit request. At least he's not asking us to refer to him by his first name.

"There's many things that would hurt you in this world and beyond," Falk says. "I heard your last teacher was useless, so I'm gonna have to make up for that on top of getting you another year ahead. And if you get any teachers after me who manage to be even more useless, I'm gonna have to make sure their uselessness doesn't fucking cripple you for life at trying to fight shit."

Hermione outright flinches at that, and she's not the only one. Half the class gapes openly at him. None of our other professors would swear in front of children like that.

Falk rolls his eyes at their expressions. "Oh, don't fucking give me that. You're gonna face worse things in the world than a few 'naughty words'. Be worried about the literal cursing and not the figurative cursing."

"Does that mean we have permission to cuss in front of you, sir?" Ron asks.

"Say whatever the fuck you want, so long as you don't call me 'sir'," Falk replies.

"Fuck yes," Ron says, ignoring Draco's sniggers.

"Now," Falk says. "There's a lot of superstitions floating around amongst wizards about various creatures, and those misconceptions could get you fucking killed. You try to ward off a vampire that's gonna hurt you with garlic and holy symbols, that bloodsucker is just gonna laugh at you and rip your throat out. Putting a fucking horseshoe over your door won't keep the Fair Folk at bay. Wolfsbane won't do jack shit to a werewolf. And holy water won't do anything to any of them."

"So… how do we fight them, then?" Draco says, encouraged by the fact that Falk doesn't seem to care about interruptions.

"And what about other wizards?" Ron asks.

"That's what I'm here to teach you," Falk says. "Let's start with the basics. Fire hurts most things. A powerful enough flame will utterly destroy a vampire, and do serious damage to a werewolf. Most other shit is flammable, too. Just don't try it with a demon or a fire elemental. They'll laugh at you and turn your guts to ash."

"Why would fire just _hurt_ a werewolf?" Draco asks.

"Werewolves will regenerate most wounds that aren't caused by fire and silver," Falk replies. "Fortunately for you, most werewolves just want to be left the fuck alone. Stay out of their territory and you'll be fine. Some werewolves are fucking bad news, though. I'll tell you how to recognize and deal with them later. Right now, I'm gonna tell you about vampires. Those fucking bloodsuckers, by and large, won't hesitate to make a meal of you."

Why is he so vehement about his own kind? Why would he want to teach us how to kill him?

"Now, before you ask, just being bitten by a bloodsucker won't turn you into another bloodsucker," Falk says. "That's stupid. The world would be overrun by them if that were the case. They need to drain a mortal and then feed them their blood. Just feeding them blood without draining them first will make that mortal a ghoul. Ghouls get some vampiric strength, won't age so long as there's vamp blood in them, and can still go out in daylight. Bloodsuckers use them as servants or slaves, to deal with the mortal world where they can't. You'll probably encounter more ghouls than you do vamps, but if there's ghouls around, there'll be vamps nearby, too. They've gotta get blood every month." He looks over to Hermione, who has her hand in the air, and smirks. "You there, girl with the bushy hair. Just speak up if you've got something to say."

"How do you tell who might be a ghoul?" Hermione asks.

Falk grins without humor. "You can't. Not by any normal means, at any rate."

"Are there spells?" Hermione asks. "I didn't see anything in any of the books I read about this."

"Ugh, don't get me started on the fucking books," Falk says. "You lot around here are even more ignorant than most mages, and that's saying something." He grunts. "Probably not entirely _your_ fault, though, if your education system has been so fucking shoddy. And this is supposed to be the _best_ fucking magic school in the UK."

"Why did you assign us this useless book instead of anything about dark creatures or combat spells?" Draco wonders.

"You can't always be sure you'll be able to use your magic," Falk says. "Especially not among Muggles. Learn to use what's on hand and don't go throwing around vulgar displays of magic like idiots. That's just asking for trouble and you know it. I'm also going to show you how to shoot a gun. I hear you've got a Fencing Club going, too. That's good. More of you should join in. If you shoot a vamp, that'll hurt him but won't keep him down. Shoot them and cut off their heads. That'll fuck them up."

* * *

After class, as the other students file out, I approach our new vampiric professor. I hate to admit it even to myself, but I'm nervous as fuck about this. This is the sort of thing that could go spectacularly wrong somehow and I have no idea whether I'd be able to fix it again. I don't know whether or not I'd be able to repeat the ridiculous feat that I somehow pulled off in order to save the universe from _him_.

I take a deep breath and steel myself. This is not the time for being nervous. I look back at him. I think of the future that could have happened, could still happen. Yes, this is absolutely the time to be nervous. At least I have a lightsaber in easy reach. I've kept it on my belt ever since I made it, because I can defend myself with it better than any of the magic I've learned —or re-learned— so far.

Falk glances over to me and smirks. "Out with it, kid. You look like you're about to piss yourself. Hope you know the Cleansing Charm, if you do."

I clear my through. "Sorry, sir. I mean, Falk. I just— I just wanted to talk to you. For a moment. Please."

I'm surprised myself that I stumble through that sort of politeness, especially to someone that I'm not sure whether or not I should completely and totally despise.

"For a moment?" Falk says with a snort. "I got a moment, but if it's more than a moment, let's step into my office."

"Yeah. Yeah, okay."

As I follow him into his office, I have to wonder, just what the fuck do I even _tell_ him? What do I say? What do I ask? I'm not the sort of person who is usually at a loss for words. I'm the one always spinning webs of words to get people to do what I want and make people see things my way. I like to think, in my most arrogant and proud moments, that I could solve all the multiverse's problems if I simply had a chance to throw a barrage of speech at the right person in the right place at the right time.

Like the classroom that we're using for Defense Against the Dark Arts this year, Falk's office is situated in a room that doesn't have any windows. Is it really as obvious to anyone else as it is to me that our professor is a vampire? Even if I didn't already know, this would all be just a little bit suspicious. How long can he hide this?

"Professor—" I begin.

Falk cuts me off with a gesture. "Just Falk. None of that 'professor' rot. I don't care if I _am_ your professor or not."

"Alright," I say slowly. "Falk."

"And take a seat," Falk says. "You're making _me_ fucking nervous just standing there like that. Just tell me you won't fucking piss yourself all over the chair."

"Right, okay," I say, taking a seat. I'd really rather be standing, in a position where I could drop into combat stance and whip out my lightsaber on a moment's notice if this conversation should take a turn for the worst. I'm pretty sure I could get away with murdering him, but even if not, it would be worth the consequences to rid the world of such a danger to its very existence.

"So. You got questions? Comments? Just something you want to get off your chest? Well, spit it out. I'm all ears."

I take a deep breath and then babble out in a rush, "I'm a Time Mage and I just came back in time after I saved the universe from you."

Whatever he might have expected me to say, that was the furthest thing from it. He stands there silently, staring at me for a long moment, then snorts softly. "That's a good one. Haven't heard that one before. Get out of my office, kid. You've wasted enough of my time."

"But—"

"I don't have time for children's stupid pranks."

With a wave of his hand, my chair suddenly grows feet and scuttles over to the other side of the room. The door opens, and the chair tips over to unceremoniously dump me out into the hallway, and even kicks me for good measure before the door slams shut behind me.

Well. That could have gone better.


	3. Comparing Notes

"We've been back at school a whole week, and Mum hasn't sent _you_ any Howlers," Ron says to Ginny. "That's not fair."

"She probably got burnt out on them sending them to you," Ginny says.

"Maybe she just loves Ginny more," Blaise suggests with a grin.

"You've been spending an awful lot of time around her." Pansy plops herself down in the chair beside me, paying no heed to the homework I'm doing in the common room.

"Who?"

Pansy snorts softly. "What do you mean, who?"

"I'm not sure whether you mean Hermione, Ginny, or Cassie," I say. "Maybe Luna, for that matter."

" _Luna_?" Pansy says.

"She gave me this lovely scarf," I say.

"You're involved with that loony too?"

"She's not loony just because she can see things we can't," I say. "She's loony because she's weird on top of that."

"Whatever," Pansy says. "I did mean Cassie. You could hardly be pried away from her every vacation and now that she's at Hogwarts you're at her side every waking moment."

"Am not," I say. "We don't even have any classes together."

"When you're not in classes, I mean, silly."

I shrug. "We're friends. What of it?"

"You know!" Pansy insists.

I raise an eyebrow. "What? Oh, Merlin, you can't possibly be implying… Pansy, we're twelve!"

"Well. I mean. You should spend some more time with me."

"Sure," I say. "What do you want to do?" My time already seems strapped enough, notwithstanding dealing with an infatuated twelve-year-old. I still haven't figured out what to do about her. The result has seemed to be doing nothing.

"Uhh…" Pansy says. "I hadn't really thought that far ahead."

"Homework?" I say with a grin.

"Ugh, so boring."

"So make it exciting." I pick up my quill and twirl it in my fingers. "Think of every fascinating way a spell could be used. Think of the way magic interacts with itself. It's not just books and reading and studying. It's the stuff of life. Magic flows around us. Do you want to be the mistress of that power, or merely a slave to its whims?"

Pansy raises an eyebrow. "Homework would make me the mistress of the universe?"

I snicker and put the quill down. "Maybe not on its own. You should really start coming to Fencing Club, by the way."

Pansy pauses thoughtfully. "I saw what you and the house-elf did with those magic swords. I'll take back anything I said about that being a 'Muggle sport'. You're much too obsessed with that, though, and your studying thing."

"Are you not ambitious?" I ask. "You won't get real power just by flirting with the right people." I wink at her.

She sighs. "Fine. You've made your point." She stands up. "I guess I'll never be good enough for you." She turns to walk away.

"That wasn't what I meant!" I cry, leaping to my feet. Damnit, why does this have to be so complicated?

Pansy pauses at the door. "And your scarf is ugly, too!" She slams it behind her.

The whole common room stops and looks at us for a moment as Pansy stalks back to the girls' dormitory in a huff. What the fuck? I really have better things to do than deal with overly emotional girls taking things entirely the wrong way.

"Are you breaking girls' hearts again, mate?" Ron says, stepping over beside me.

"I have no idea what it was that I said."

I go over to where Cassie and Hermione are seated at another table, bonding over their shared love of knowledge and the uses it can be put to, either that or plotting world domination by means thereof, I'm not sure which.

"Hey," I say. "Can you ladies promise not to be weird and complicated? Please?"

"Uhh, okay?" Hermione says, blinking at me.

"I think it's a little late for that, isn't it?" Cassie says.

"Please? Pretty please?" I say. "I'll promise you all the secrets of the universe, or at least the ones I happen to know."

"Well, okay," Cassie says. "Since you asked nicely."

"Great, I'll hold you do that." I grin. "Ah, Hermione, any chance you could tell Pansy she's not my girlfriend or whatever? Please?"

"Why don't you just tell her yourself?" Hermione wonders.

I glance over toward the door leading to the girls' dorms. "I think you just saw why. I've tried."

Hermione sighs. "Fine, I'll talk to her." She stands up and heads off that way.

* * *

After the next class of Defense Against the Dark Arts, I decide to try again. I'm not going to let this matter rest. I'll kill him if I have to, but I need to know whether I'm going to have to kill him or not. Whether I'm going to have to find some fucking way to kill him in every stupid timeline in order to protect the multiverse.

Surely such extreme measures would not be necessary, even if they were possible. Surely only a very rare and specific set of circumstances could possibly lead to that sort of situation, and surely his personality can't possibly be the only one that could cause those sorts of problems. There have to be other people who hate magic and would like to see it stifled. There have to be other people who hate the idea of time travel and would ban it if given the opportunity.

There have to be other people who would happily put a stranglehold on the free will of every being in the multiverse.

"Falk, I need to speak with you," I say with new determination.

"This better not be any of your time travel nonsense again," Falk says.

I bite my lower lip. "I needed some advice on what to do if I suspect someone I know is a vampire."

Falk stares at me for a long moment and says, "Right, get the fuck into my office, kid."

Dumbledore has probably complained to him about his language on more than one occasion, but given the difficulty of the school in getting and keeping people willing to do the Defense Against the Dark Arts job, it's unlikely that he'll get fired for anything short of trying to blow up the school. We go back into his office and he makes a sharp gesture toward the chair, and I take a seat.

"Alright, what's this about?" Falk demands, turning to face me and pointedly not taking a seat himself. The way he's standing over me makes this almost feel like an interrogation.

"You're a vampire," I say.

"Yes," Falk says. "What of it?" At my moment of silence, he goes on, "What, did you expect me to deny it? Don't think I can keep it quiet forever. I expected it to be a little bit longer before someone figured it out though."

"I didn't figure it out," I say. "I knew because I'm from the future."

Falk rolls his eyes. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't throw you out on your ass again."

I have to tell him something that might actually convince him. "The world was taken over by a… a 'Black Spiral Dancer' I think the term was—"

His face works up into a foul expression and he lets out a low growl.

"— by the name of Jez'kai—"

" _Him_?"

"Yes, him," I say. "I take it you have some sort of history together."

"You could say that," Falk says. "Alright, you've got my fucking attention. Go on."

"I'm afraid I'm a little unclear on some of the details as I wasn't in the front lines, so to speak," I say. "Which is probably just as well, otherwise someone might have— no, _would_ have— stopped me from coming back to fix things."

"You've said _one_ word that might possibly convince me you could somehow be telling the fucking truth, but you might have been able to find that out by more mundane means. Tell me another one."

My mind swirls as I try to figure something out. "He— what was it, there was… a werewolf by the name of Gideon. A member of the Silver Fang tribe. Jez'kai sacrificed an entire city to try to manifest… something. An aspect of the… Wyrm? Sorry, I'm not too familiar with the terminology."

I abruptly realize just what it is that's different about this timeline, that doesn't quite fit with my hazy recollections. The 'base' timeline, the one I first arrived in and the one I spent most of my time in that I recall, does not have vampires and werewolves quite like this. Well, I'm not too sure about the vampires, but the werewolves? Definitely different, so far as I can tell.

Falk sighs. "Alright, let's say I believe you." He goes over behind his desk and flops down heavily into his chair. "You are going to sit right there and tell me every fucking thing you remember. I'll get you excused from your next fucking class if need be."

"It's just History, anyway," I say. "Binns won't notice."

Falk snorts softly and nods. "Then speak."

"It's… alright, let me explain. I didn't actually see any of this firsthand. I mean, I wasn't even in the universe, well, in that timeframe. Someone from that timeline managed to avoid the events by being outside the universe at the time. He was the one who went back in time to find me and push me to a point that I could prevent those events from coming to pass. As an inborn Time Mage, I had a better chance at that than someone who had simply learned it, and so far as I've heard, I'm apparently the most powerful Time Mage that ever existed. You know, aside from the fact that I can barely use it consciously, but never mind that."

Falk impatiently sits through my babbling, giving me a look to get on with it.

"Right, anyway, this person showed me what happened as a sort of memory of things he'd seen. It was pretty jumbled and went by quickly. Gideon came to the ritual site where Jez'kai had prepared to summon that… monster, whatever it was. He came with the power of the gods behind him. Gaia, Luna, and Helios. And then— I'm not sure exactly how it happened, but Jez'kai turned that dark energy directly against Gideon. And then the world went dark and Gideon trapped Jez'kai's soul in a little crystal. The— everything was dark. The sun and moon were gone. What the fuck even happened there."

"I don't know, but that's pretty fucking worrying," Falk says. "I take it Jez'kai didn't stay put."

"Gideon entrusted the soul trap to a young werewolf by the name of Dragonfly," I go on. "Or was it Rettah? I think Dragonfly was her 'pack name'. Whatever that means. I got a huge influx of names in a short period of time and I'm lucky to have remembered as many as I did. Anyway, he sent her to a different universe."

Falk snorts in amusement. "Well, I'd guess if he did get out, then he'd be that universe's problem. And it'd keep him away from his sometime supporters. And he did, of course, get the fuck out, right?"

"She trusted it to the worst fucking person in the universe," I say. "The trickster god, Shazmar, the Blue Star. Don't ask me why the fuck she did that. I can't imagine what was going on in her head to think that could possibly be a good idea."

Falk groans softly.

"He let Jez'kai out. For the sake of his own entertainment. To create conflict so that he could fucking eat popcorn while he watched."

"Motherfuck," Falk says.

"Well, long story short, Jez'kai blew up one version of Earth, made himself the supreme God of all existence, a woman named Suzcecoz gave you a chance to get in through a backdoor, you ousted him and took over, but— something wasn't right. Jez'kai had… corrupted you somehow? I'm not clear on that."

"Not sure how he could, but at this point I'll take your word on that," Falk says.

"You were very angry and not very sane, so far as I could tell," I say. "You shut down time travel. You cut that timeline off from the rest of the multiverse. You cut it away from alternate timelines. You put a massive damper on all magic. And effectively, you stifled free will. I can't really explain it. That's the best I can do."

"Fuck," Falk utters. "Alright, fuck. I don't like the idea of time travel. I don't like this whole bullshit about alternate timelines. And much as I have powers that could be construed as 'magic' and am teaching a class of mages in a school of wizardry and witchcraft, I'm not especially fond of magic. But that? I never fucking wanted anything like that. I wouldn't— if I were sane and uncorrupted, I wouldn't do something like _that_."

"I hoped not," I say. "I took a chance in talking to you that you really weren't that sort of person."

"So you came back in time to nip that whole clusterfuck in the bud and keep it from ever getting rolling," Falk says. "Or this other bloke came back in time and told you and— you know what, let's not confuse the issue and just fucking leave it at that."

"Yeah, I'm honestly not even clear on what happened or what I did myself," I say. "I'm a Time Mage, and it's confusing to _me_."

Falk rubs his head. "You could have just told me that you came back to stop that clusterfuck. In fact, if you ever wind up having to tell me that shit again, just tell me that. Just explain the clusterfuck and tell me you went back to stop it."

"Right, got it," I say.

"You know it was Jez'kai who was the real problem in all of that, not me," Falk says. "You got any brilliant way to prevent _him_ from doing any of those things?"

"Um… no," I say. "Not really. I mean, I could just kill him, but if he's capable of coming back to life repeatedly like that, it wouldn't do much good." I snort softly. "Do you know if he has some great regret that I could send him back in time to choose another course?"

Falk rolls his eyes. "That is the stupidest, most goodie-two-shoes thing I have ever heard."

"Yeah, didn't think so. I mean, he probably _does_ and you just don't know what it is, but I don't know if he was the sort of person who was ever sane in the first place."

"Let's call that a backup plan in case everything goes horribly wrong again," Falk says. "If that sort of shit looks like it's about to go down again, _you_ are to kick him the fuck out of the timeline before it gets any worse. Got it?"

I nod. "Understood. But if I do, I'm going with him. That makes him my responsibility. He kind of already is."

"Great," Falk says. "I don't know what sort of resources you have access to, but call them in and see if they can find a way to stop him. You probably have more magical contacts than me. I'll do the same on my end, with the Kindred and the Garou."

"The who?" I ask.

"The vampires and the werewolves," Falk says. "Remind me to do a fucking vocabulary lesson next class period."

I grin. "Right. I'll get in touch with my contacts. If anyone can figure out an answer, they can."

"Jez'kai is his Black Spiral name, by the way," Falk says. "They name themselves after the unintelligible gibbering they make after they fall out of an insane, twisted hellish pocket dimension. His Garou name is Fenrir Greyback."

"Fenrir Greyback?" I repeat.

"Yeah, you wouldn't believe the unspeakably cliche names werewolves give their cubs sometimes. Do you have any idea how many furballs are named Remus and Fenrir? It's a good thing most of them take on pack names after their First Change. Even if a lot of their pack names are fucking stupid, too."

"Right," I say. "And Falk? Sorry about freaking out about you."

Falk snorts softly. "Can't blame you. If I'd just seen what you did about me, I'd be freaking out, too. Betting you're probably still worried, even."

"I'd be lying if I said I weren't," I admit.

"Do you know who this Suzcecoz was?" Falk asks. "That sounds like a Spiral name, too."

"I'm not too clear on her, no," I say. "Sorry."

"How far in the future _was_ this, anyway?" Falk wonders.

"A few hundred years, I think? I wasn't too clear on the precise timeframe."

"She probably hasn't even been born yet, then," Falk says. "Anything else I should know?"

"Nothing comes to mind immediately, but I'll be sure to let you know if I think of anything relevant," I say.

Falk nods. "Even if things aren't likely to go nuts for another few hundred years, I'm not wasting one second that could be spent diverting it. Problems don't happen all at once. Shit builds up over time, bit by bit. By the time the disaster hits, it's already too late to stop the buildup. Fucking good thing you came back as far as you did. Maybe we can still prevent it, this far back. Go on, then. I need to make some calls."

As I head out of the office, I wonder, can I prevent this in every timeline, though? As I keep myself calm and try to think things through reasonably, I think that the actual events that led up to the final disaster can't happen. Not without Shazmar's meddling. That's somewhat reassuring.

I'm not sure what it was that I really did to break that failed future and prevent it from coming to pass. Not the least of which that changing time is supposed to be impossible, but then, what Falk did to the universe was supposed to be impossible, too.

I'm left to wondering if I really actually changed the future at all. Shazmar told me that he'd contained that timeline. I didn't stop it from existing. I think what I actually wound up doing was an amplification of my trick of sending someone back in time to before their greatest regret in order to give them a chance to change their lives and stop it from coming to pass. I did this to a thousand or more people at once, snatching lost souls out from under the failed timeline and dragging them back to give them another chance. No wonder I passed out for so long. If I hadn't been in Torn Elkandu, probably the most powerful node in the multiverse, the effort would have killed me and probably not even worked at all to boot.

It would be a mistake to think that, just because the specifics or scale of that doom aren't going to happen, that some lesser disaster couldn't ensue regardless, one that could still result in the deaths or enslavement of countless people. Jez'kai is a threat that needs to be dealt with, sure, but he's not the only one that could ever exist. And it's becoming increasingly clear to me what I need to do to make sure that doesn't happen.

I need to take over the world.

* * *

I stroll into the Slytherin common room the next morning and say casually, "Hey, guys. Does anyone know how to destroy an immortal demonic werewolf?"

A few people cast strange looks in my general direction, and then promptly dismiss it as me saying something weird again.

"By what means of immortality?" Cassie asks without missing a beat.

"Dunno," I reply.

"That's not helpful," Cassie says. "You have to know the means of immortality in order to determine a way to defeat it."

"Not necessarily," Brax puts in. "High-powered soul magic can cause a being to be unable to resurrect regardless of the method used."

"That's really not something to rely on, though," Cassie says. "And it won't work for every possible method—"

"Just _how many_ methods for immortality do you know, Cassie?" I wonder.

"A dozen or so, most of them horrible," Cassie says. "With horrible enough consequences and price that most insane dark wizards won't contemplate their use."

"Why a werewolf?" Draco wonders, passing by our table. "That seems a little redundant on top of the others."

"Werewolves usually aren't crazy-evil," Gerard says. "Antisocial magic-hating, sure, but not evil. Mostly they kill us because we try to use their nodes."

"That's a lovely distinction," Draco says.

"What about the… Black Spiral Dancers?" I ask.

"Oh, yeah, them," Gerard says. "Yeah, they're definitely evil."

"Glad we've figured that out," Draco says. "Can we go get breakfast and stop discussing weird hypo— wait, that wasn't a hypothetical, was it."

"Nope," I say. "But yes, let's eat. We have time. It's not like he's going to destroy the world tomorrow or anything."

"Harry, _how_ do you even sleep at night?"

"Mental conditioning," I say brightly as I head out to the Great Hall.

Rispy is already casually sitting at the Slytherin table, eating pancakes. I have to wonder just what circumstance led this collection of traditional wizards to accept this weirdly dressed house-elf hanging around at their table. Maybe they're just ignoring him and pretending he's not there. Or maybe they're just terrified of him after the lightsaber demonstration at Fencing Club at the end of last year.

I take a seat next to him and pour syrup all over my own place of pancakes. "Did you know about this, Rispy?"

"Know about what?" Rispy asks.

"Falk," I say.

Rispy shrugs.

"And… Garou?" I say. "What the hell are Garou?"

"Werewolves," Rispy says. "They're usually born to a Garou parent and a human. They undergo their first change at some point around puberty usually after which they can transform at will."

"They aren't spread by an infection," I say flatly.

"Nope," Rispy says. "That's just superstition."

"You know what I'm getting at here," I say pointedly.

"It's not an uncommon deviation from baseline, if that's what you mean," Rispy says.

I was the one making assumptions, really, I suppose. I was the one who assumed that the world would be exactly like the faint bits I could remember, even though I can't actually remember much and do have contradictory memories floating to the surface at times. Assumptions are dangerous things. Especially when they're made on incomplete or potentially faulty information in the first place.

I should listen to my own advice about expectations more.

* * *

"So, both of you got Sorted into Slytherin?" Sirius asks as we return home for the Autumnal Equinox.

"Yup!" Gerard says. "I've been confusing the robes off of all the snooty purebloods."

"They don't know what _Star Wars_ is, and they think _we're_ the cultural heathens," Hermione says, giggling.

"Glad you're having fun," Sirius says. "Maybe there's hope for Slytherin yet." He grins.

"They don't know what's hit them," Gerard says.

"Where's Tom?" I wonder.

"He's probably in the lab," Remus says. "He's moved out of the library and set up a laboratory in the west wing."

"He's way too into his work," Sirius says, rolling his eyes. "I did manage to drag him out for a drink, but he just wanted to go to a dingy old pub in Knockturn Alley. He only even had one drink, and just looked around the place like he'd forgotten something."

Remus snorts softly. "Yes, the both of you had probably forgotten getting drunk there many times. That's what happens when you get drunk."

I go off to find him. The lab in question isn't hard to find. In fact, it almost seems like the house made sure I could find it easily. I have to wonder just how the house itself might foil an invader. While exploring it over the summer I'd found that rooms didn't always stay in the same place, but while I never really had any trouble finding anything, this also made it difficult to explore new places. What could this house be hiding from me?

Quietly, so as not to disturb any delicate experiments that might be going on inside, I open the door and take a peek inside. The equipment that's been set up so far doesn't look too elaborate at a glance. Nothing that comes close to the mess of contraptions in Dumbledore's office. The most complicated bit is a large pendulum clock standing in the center of the room, ticking away. After listening to it for a moment, I realize that what it's ticking aren't seconds, but my heartbeats. That's slightly disturbing.

"You've been busy, Voldemort," I say.

"Just call me Tom," he replies, gesturing toward me to come inside. "No sense in being foolish and assuming that no one will ever overhear us."

"Alright then," I say. "Tom."

"Come place your hand on the glass panel," Tom says, gesturing to the clock. "I want to double-check that it's calibrated properly."

I go over and press my palm against the front of the clock. "I'm guessing this is connected to me somehow?"

"Yes," Tom says, peering it over for a moment before waving to me, and I take my hand away. "If I'm to trace down any pieces of your soul, they will naturally need to be connected to you."

"Of course, I got that part," I say with a chuckle.

"I haven't finished setting up the equipment yet," Tom says. "I'll let you know when I've made any progress. I may need to sacrifice you on Samhain."

"Okay," I say. "I suppose this would be a bad time to discuss the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?"

Tom snorts softly. "I'm guessing they are probably evil, incompetent, or have some sort of dark secret? Can't you deal with them yourself?"

"Well, yeah, I just wanted to give a heads up," I say. "He's a vampire."

"It's always good to know someone's dark secrets right off the bat," Tom says, turning to examine a runed glass tube.

"He once destroyed the universe," I say. "Sort of."

"In the future, obviously," Tom says.

"Yeah. That."

"Do you think he's likely to disrupt what we're doing here?" Tom asks, picking up a small bladed tool.

"I don't know," I say, leaning against the table and watching what he's doing. "If he thinks I'm harboring Dark Lords in my house? Very likely."

"Why would this vampire be concerned about Dark Lords?" Tom wonders.

"Same reason he's teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts," I say. "He really, really hates other vampires, Black Spiral Dancers, and dark wizards."

"Then we will not give him reason to draw his scrutiny," Tom says with a shrug. "As we are not currently doing anything that would attract such attention, I do not see the problem."

"It's not just that," I say, closing my eyes and thinking of what I saw. "In that failed future, the one who had really been the source of the problems and _caused_ this vampire to get on this course was a werewolf by the name of Fenrir Greyback, also called Jez'kai."

"I'm familiar with him," Tom says. "He was quite dangerous, although I'm impressed that he would manage to go so far."

"Yeah, well, he'd apparently used some method of immortality and wound up keeping coming back to life anytime someone managed to off him," I say.

"Why are you so concerned about this werewolf all of a sudden?" Tom asks.

"I'd appreciate him not causing problems for me," I say.

Tom grunts. "Fair enough."

I don't know if he ever caused problems in any of the timelines that I remember bits and pieces of, but that doesn't mean anything, and just because I can't remember it doesn't mean I should assume there were no problems. It's frustrating sometimes.

"I don't know what method of immortality he used," I say.

"Probably used a Horcrux and hid it better than mine," Tom says with a scowl. "As much as it wounds my pride to admit it, if a single house-elf could collect them all, it was a poorly thought out plan in the first place."

"There aren't other methods he could have used?" I ask.

"Some, some more likely than others," Tom says. "He's obviously not a vampire, lich, or any other sort of undead. There's one method I ran across that involves permanently sacrificing your ability to do magic. Obviously I dismissed it, as would he."

"So a Horcrux is the most likely method?" I say. "Well. I'd say it's what you would have done, but it's what you _did_."

Tom nods, and looks to me bitterly. "I would prefer to focus on the matter at hand. Can you and the others handle the matter of keeping the werewolf out of the way whilst I do so?"

"Yeah," I say. "I'm sure we can manage."

"Good," Tom says. "I should hope that someone capable of forcefully bonding me against my will is capable of dealing with one mere werewolf."

"Nice to know you're not still pissed off about that," I say.

"Yes, my loathing for you could span the multiverse. Kindly leave me to my work."

"Right then." I incline my head toward him and head back out toward the great hall.

I suppose it's as well as could be expected. He was distant and quiet over most of the summer as well. I can only hope that he softens up a bit once he finds what he's looking for.

"So, Remus," I say, flopping down on the couch. "You're a werewolf."

"Yes," Remus says. "I thought we went over this before."

I wave a hand. "I mean. Do you know of a werewolf named Fenrir Greyback? Also known as Jez'kai?"

Remus' face darkens. "Yes. What of him?"

"Great," I say. "I've been talking to our current Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, a fellow by the name of Falk, and I have reason to believe he's found some means of immortality and is planning to take over and/or destroy the world."

Sirius glances aside to Cassie and says, "Are holidays with him always like this?"

"Yes," Cassie replies. "You get used to it."


	4. Friendly Fire

I know I'm probably needlessly worrying about Jez'kai. There's no indication that he'll do anything at all in this timeline, never mind anything immediately or while I'm still at school or before I leave the universe and go somewhere else. No, I can't leave them to this. Not this sort of threat. And so, to that end, Remus and Sirius agree to keep an ear out for any activity.

Instead of dwelling on that, I decide to head to my library and look for some books on the subject of world governments. There's very little about the Muggle governments around the world, however. I'm going to need to deal with them eventually, too, if I intend to actually take over the world and bring down the Statute of Secrecy. Still, I pick out a few things to take back to school for a closer read later.

I find Hermione in the great hall diligently poring over a piece of homework. Hmm, how do I tell her what I'm planning? "Hey, Hermione," I say. "I'm planning to take over the world and bring down the Statute of Secrecy. Any chance you could get your hands on some books about Muggle governments?"

"Okay," Hermione says.

"What, you're actually planning to do that _peacefully_?" Gerard says. "Do you really expect it to work?"

"Unnecessary violence is not a good foundation for a stable government," I say. Don't I know it.

"You are the weirdest Dark Lord ever," Gerard says.

"You're _already_ planning to take over the world?" Sirius says, looking over to me with a smirk. "Merlin, I can see why you got put in Slytherin, but most people would at least wait until they're out of school first."

"It's a perfect time to learn," I say. "While kicking the ass of everyone that disagrees with me might do the trick, for a while, ruling through fear with an iron fist would just invite bloody rebellions. It's better to be loved than feared."

"Well, to that end, I wish you _good luck_ ," Sirius says. "You're going to need it."

"I know precious little about how the world is actually run."

"There's a place in Diagon Alley that'll purchase books from the Muggle world and owl them to you," Remus says helpfully. "Do you really think you can succeed at taking over the world peacefully?"

"It'll be quite the challenge, I won't dispute that," I say. "But anything worth doing is worth doing right."

I'm pretty sure that I never bonded Sirius and Remus before. Tom and Gerard would have noticed if I had. Even if they couldn't identify the other three connections on my soul, they should have been able to tell if they were anyone in the immediate vicinity, I'd think. But now I'm considering it. They don't know I'm a time traveler. They don't know I'm immortal. They don't know I've traveled to many different universes. I doubt they even know other universes exist, beyond theoretically. I'll have to think about this. I should probably discuss the thought with Cassie and Gerard first, too. I get the feeling that Rispy would go along with whatever I suggested.

And I really don't want to try to bring it up with Tom right now. Not the least of which, bonding Sirius and Remus would require telling them that Tom isn't really their friend and never was. And that the Harry Potter who was originally from this timeline is dead. No, that's not a conversation I want to have anytime soon.

* * *

"Come on, fight me, damn it!" Pansy cries, wildly swinging her practice sword toward me.

I easily block it. "No, I think until you calm down, I'm just going to keep blocking your attacks. You leave yourself wide open when you charge in like that. Patience, young Padawan."

Pansy takes a step back and pants a little. "What's a Padawan?"

"Student. Apprentice."

"Oh," Pansy says. "You use weird words sometimes. You and those Muggleborns. Is that what they call Muggles who fight with swords?" She takes another clumsy strike toward me.

"No," I reply, blocking casually. "They're what people in a galaxy far, far away call wizards who fight with swords."

"What?" Pansy looks at me in confusion.

"Just because Muggles don't have magic doesn't mean they can't imagine it," I explain. "And their dreams span a multiverse."

"That's why some call them Sleepers," Falk says, stepping up to us. "Haven't seen you do much here. I want to see you fight, Harry."

"Pansy's a rank beginner," I say. "First time here."

"No," Falk says, grabbing a practice sword of his own. "I meant against me."

I grin widely and turn to face him as Pansy backs out of the way. "You're on."

"You're going to get tangled up in that stupid scarf of yours," Falk says, stepping into a testing attack against me.

I sidestep. "It's spelled to stay out of the way."

"Fucking wizards," Falk mutters.

"The only thing better than a cool scarf is a magical cool scarf," I reply cheerfully.

Back and forth we go for a while, as he tests my style and defenses without actually fighting seriously. In response, I put forth the minimum skill and effort necessary to hold him at bay. Falk steps back for a moment and narrows his eyes at me thoughtfully, before sweeping into a sudden strike that only long-honed reflexes manage to deflect.

"You're better than you're playing at," Falk says. "Fight me."

He ramps up his game, shifting into proper dueling, and I'm forced to follow suit if I don't want to yield. He wants to see what I can do? He wants additional proof that I'm actually from the future and not just some kid playing at stupid pranks? Then he shall have it. No longer content to merely block and dodge, I shift into a more aggressive stance and go on the offensive. He's not a child. I don't need to worry about accidentally hurting him. If he can't hold his own, it's his own fault for inviting me to bring it on.

Falk tries to take advantage of my aggressive stance to try to find openings. It's not like I'm not used to this sort of fighting style, though. I quickly push him into the defensive. I don't know how old or experienced this vampire is, but I'm not foolish enough to underestimate him. In one swift strike, I send his practice sword clattering to the floor and point mine at his throat.

"So," Falk says. "You do know what you're doing after all."

I incline my head to him and lower my sword. "Can I get back to training my apprentice now?"

"Go ahead." Falk scoops up his sword to get it out of the way and goes to stand off to the side.

"That was… pretty cool," Pansy says. "I'm your apprentice now?"

I grin at her. "You object?"

Pansy grins. "Nope!" She takes a wild swing at me.

I laugh as I block her attack. "But you're going to have to listen to me, though."

"Okay, okay," Pansy says reluctantly.

* * *

Draco comes up to my table in the Slytherin common room and picks up one of the books next to me that had just arrived today by owl post. " _An Analysis of the Geopolitical Climate of the Cold War_? Harry, what is this thing?"

"Muggle history book," I say absently, not glancing up from _Space Race: The History of Spaceflight_. This one has proven particularly interesting to me. I had at first believed that this comparatively low-tech universe had never set foot on other worlds. But they're closer to the cusp of starfaring than I had given them credit for, no thanks to the contributions of the wizarding community.

"Why are you reading Muggle history books?" Draco wonders. "Muggle Studies is an elective and we won't be able to take it until next year, if for whatever reason we really wanted to."

"Hmm, thanks for reminding me, I need to convince Dumbledore to make it a required core course for all years," I say.

"What."

"Well, I'm planning to take over the world, after all, and I don't just mean the _wizarding_ world," I say. "I _was_ raised by Muggles, after all, and it would be foolish and shortsighted not to take them into account."

"Okay. So. You're reading Muggle history books. So you can take over the world. Got it." Draco says, still clearly not looking like he gets it.

"Here, Draco, take a look at this," I say, flipping to another page in the book I'm reading. Covering half the page is a black-and-white photograph depicting a man in a bulky environment suit standing on extraterrestrial soil.

"The picture's not even moving," Draco says, peering over. "What am I looking at? Why is that guy wearing that ridiculous thing?" We've attracted a bit of attention and some other students nearby are looking over as well.

"He's standing on the moon," I say.

"… What?" Draco says. "That's not— How is that possible? How could _Muggles_ do such a thing? This has got to be some sort of hoax."

I snort softly. "From the sounds of things, there's a lot of conspiracy theories about it being a hoax, too. But I'll believe it." I tap the book. "The United States and the Soviet Union got into a space race that the wizarding community was totally oblivious to. How many of you know the Soviet Union fell? How many of you know the Soviet Union _existed_?"

"Are you turning Muggle-lover on us, Harry?" Draco asks. "Wait, you were raised by Muggles. So, uh…"

"If Muggles have done things you can't imagine as being possible to accomplish without magic, imagine what we could accomplish _with_ magic."

He looks at the picture again. "The moon doesn't look all that interesting."

I chuckle, and flip to another page, showing a picture of the galaxy. "The heavens themselves are at our grasp. There's worlds out there we haven't even imagined. The stars are waiting for us." I lean back in my seat. "But to get there, we'll need the resources of the whole world behind us, not just the wizarding world."

"Do you really think you can take over the world peacefully?" Gerard wonders, hopping down next to me.

"Warfare didn't work," I say. "Voldemort failed. Grindelwald failed."

"Grindelwald could have succeeded if Dumbledore hadn't stopped him," Gerard says with a hint of bitterness to his tone. "Voldemort was just an idiot, though. His campaign was more terrorism than warfare."

"And what would Grindelwald have done about the werewolves had they stepped in?" I ask.

"Sent vampires against them," Gerard says with a shrug. "Mostly he was smart enough not to threaten their nodes, though."

How am _I_ going to deal with the werewolves? Especially if they're not all just evil monsters to be killed. Rarely are beings simply evil monsters to be killed. I'm going to need to do more research. I have my hands full right now digesting Muggle history books.

* * *

This is possibly the most challenging course I will yet face at Hogwarts. Far surpassing my ability to stir cauldrons without causing them to explode. Beyond my attempts at riding a broomstick without falling off and breaking my neck. Greater even than getting through one of Professor Binns' lectures without falling asleep. Here, I face a true test of my skill as a warrior.

"Potter, fix your grip there," Falk barks at me.

I adjust my hands on the firearm in my hands, trying to follow the diagrams he'd shown us, but diagrams are no true substitute for hands-on training and experience. And so, to that end, the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom is a firing range today. Twelve-year-olds have been given live weaponry and placed in a heavily shielded room. This strikes me as a really terrible idea.

"Professor—" Hermione begins.

"Falk."

"Falk," Hermione says hesitantly. "I don't know if this is safe—"

He snorts. "I know what goes on in your other classes. It's a wonder you lot haven't blown yourselves up yet, but I'm assured that no student has died in this school in fifty years, which I will attribute more to wizardly resilience than safety precautions. Now, there's wards placed throughout the room and Silencing Charms cast upon the weapons, and we're close to the Hospital Wing. So I'm going to show you how to load your guns, hold them, and hopefully, hit those targets at the far side of the room."

I sigh and brace myself for a long string of stupid deaths.

* * *

After my inevitable sudden death, Gerard comes up to me in the Slytherin common room and whispers, "Is there something particularly likely to be killing you today?"

"Defense Against the Dark Arts," I mutter. "Falk's going to have us shooting Muggle firearms."

Gerard puts his face in his palm. "And here I was the one so eager to hook up with you."

I snicker softly. "You get used to it."

"Why does he have twelve-year-olds shooting— well, I guess there's some point to it but _still_ ," Gerard says. "Try not to get killed."

"I'll try."

"No, wait," Gerard says. "Do, or do not—"

"Yeah, yeah."

* * *

Another pointless death leaves me wandering into the common room rubbing my head, more annoyed at myself than anything else.

"This is stupid," Cassie says. "Why would Falk have children practice with dangerous Muggle weapons?"

"Ugh, in my hands, anything can be a deadly weapon," I mutter.

"You could just sit this one out," Gerard suggests.

"I will not flinch at the prospect of handling a fucking Muggle weapon."

* * *

"Okay, this is just getting stupid," Gerard says.

"Stormseeker," Luna says, approaching me. "You seem distressed." She cocks her head at me thoughtfully. "And I've never seen that particular color of grackles before."

"Hello, Luna," I say. "I don't suppose you have any advice for how not to get stupidly killed by trying to use Muggle firearms?"

"Hmm," Luna says thoughtfully, putting her chin in her hand. "Try hitting the blibbering humdingers instead of yourself."

I stare at her for a long moment. "What if there aren't any blibbering humdingers?"

"Maybe a fluttering wolpertinger?" Luna says.

I sigh and put my hand to my forehead. "If your point is that I should be hitting something, anything but myself, then I will take that as stating the obvious."

"Then why do you fail?" Luna asks.

"Because. I can't— I'm not—" I stop sputtering and go back to staring at her.

"Is it harder to hit things with a gun than with a wand?" Luna asks.

Grooves worn into my mind from countless lifetimes. Ingrained thoughts of what I'd done before, whether I remember them or not.

_This man never learned to shoot straight in a million years,_ Rispy had said.

Why? Damnit, why do I let what I've learned before, what I've done before, limit me?

"Alright," I say. "I'm going to out there and shoot something other than myself."

* * *

"Alright, I'm going to go out there and make sure everyone else shoots something other than me."

* * *

"This is stupid," I mumble.

Gerard puts his face in his palm, snickering. "How are you so bad at this?"

"Are you regretting Lammas already?"

"No, I just find the whole situation hilarious," Gerard says.

Cassie sighs. "Can I put in a voice of common sense? If something isn't working, do a different thing."

"Yeah, yeah," I mutter.

* * *

Gerard is outright laughing by this point, causing others in the Slytherin common room to glance over toward us to wonder what the joke was.

Hermione approaches. "What's wrong?"

"Harry's scared of the Muggle guns," Gerard says.

"Gerard, it's not funny to mock someone like that," Hermione says.

"If you're too scared of them, then just sit out the class," Cassie says. "There's no sense in beating your head against a stone wall about it."

"Skiving off class is no good, either," Hermione says. "Harry, you're never going to be able to get used to being in real combat situations or around Muggle weaponry if you can't do it in a controlled environment."

I groan aloud. My mind is pretty fuzzy. Either the repeated deaths are taking their toll on me, or— yeah, probably that. At least I'm not still forgetting things. I pause and think back to make sure I haven't forgotten anything. Then again, if I'd forgotten something, I wouldn't remember it. And I haven't been keeping a journal. Why haven't I been keeping a journal? Even if I'm sure I won't forget anything, I would have thought that'd be a basic precaution. It's not like I can't make one that's completely secure against all casual and most concerted efforts. I think I've gotten complacent.

Why should I have trusted Tom to perform the soul bond ritual without having set up a contingency?

… this is worrying.

"I'm not feeling so good," I say. "Hermione, call you tell Falk I won't be there? Gerard, could you help me get to the hospital wing?"

Hermione frowns at me, and then nods. "Alright, but I'll check on you after class."

As I head out of the Slytherin dungeon, Cassie trails along after us as well. Most of the students will either still be in their dorms, or heading out to eat breakfast in the Great Hall. I only make a brief pretense of actually going to the hospital wing.

"Well, at least you've stopped that silliness," Cassie says. "Gerard might think it's funny, but I can't imagine how you don't get annoyed at that after a while."

"It _is_ annoying," I say. "It's not just that, though."

I pause in front of a tapestry depicting a sleeping dragon, and stare at it for a long moment before going inside. Cassie and Gerard follow me in.

Raising my wand to the door, I reflexively cast, " _Muffliato. Colloportus. Locus Timoris._ " I blink and stare at my wand, then look to the others. "What did I just cast?"

"Something I don't recognize, Locking Charm, and Revulsion Curse," Gerard says. "It should keep us from being bothered, at least. What's up?"

"Do either of you know if I ever made any journals or the like?" I ask.

"Not that I know of," Gerard says, and Cassie shakes her head.

"Something seems to have jostled loose after dying so many times in close succession, and I'm wondering now if Tom didn't mess with my head somehow. And it is _not like me_ not to be paranoid."

"Refresh my memory here… why do you trust him again?" Gerard asks.

I put my face in my palm.

"You might as well ask why he trusts _us_ ," Cassie adds.

"Well, yeah, that too," Gerard says.

"Not helping, you guys," I say.

"At any rate, I swear I've never messed with your mind, unless someone was mind-controlling me to mess with your mind and then mind-wiped me," Gerard says.

Cassie rolls her eyes. "You're horrible."

I sigh, cover my face with my rainbow scarf, and try to focus and calm down. I am the eye of the storm. I haven't forgotten that much. I've already forgotten so much that my only real worry here is that he's been manipulating me again, just like he has Sirius and Remus, and not that I might have forgotten some of my time in this world or the last.

"Alright, Gerard, can you make me a little bit sick and take me to the hospital wing like I said I was going to? And Cassie, you should probably get to class before anyone wonders. Or breakfast. Is it still breakfast?"

Cassie nods and says, "Yeah, alright. I'm not sure that going to class is more important than a Dark Lord messing with your mind, but I'll keep my eyes open." She tries to open the door, snorts softly upon forgetting that it was sealed tight, pulls out her wand and casts, " _Finite Incantatem_ ," then leaves.

"So, you trust me?" Gerard says.

"I trust you to want to be a Sith Lord and possibly take over some galaxy far, far away," I say. "And I trust you not to be stupid enough to betray me."

"I don't know if Tom has done anything stupid or not this time, but like I said before, you're giving a lot and asking little," Gerard says. "I don't know why he thinks he _has_ to. He's kind of an idiot."

"I hope I'm just being paranoid," I say. "But I've found that rarely have I regretted being too paranoid."

"Yeah, true," Gerard says. "Anyway, let's give you a reason to go to the hospital wing and then get you to the hospital wing." He pulls out his wand and chuckles, looking at it for a moment. "You know Ollivander knew exactly who I was? Didn't care, either." He waves it at me and casts, " _Nauseas_."

Immediately, I feel sick to my stomach, and almost regret asking him to cast that. Oh well, it beats repeatedly getting into accidents with firearms. I follow him out to the hospital wing, and he gives me a wave and turns to head off to class as I go inside.

"Mr. Potter," the mediwitch, Madam Pomfrey, says as I go inside. "You look ill. Come inside."

"I feel sick," I mumble, without even having to fake it.

"Sit down and I'll take a look at you." She waves her wand over me and does a quick diagnostic. "Hmm. You seem to be suffering from magical exhaustion and a Nausea Jinx. Have you children been dueling in the hallways again? No matter, I'll get you fixed right up, but I'm afraid you'll need to sit out classes for the day and I want you doing minimal magic for the next few days, understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," I mutter, laying down to rest as she counters Gerard's jinx. As the worry and panic drains out of me enough for my mind to register the exhaustion, I definitely feel like I could sleep all day. "May I pass out now?"

"You may," Madam Pomfrey says with a touch of amusement.

* * *

"What language _is_ that?" Cassie wonders, taking a seat next to me in the Slytherin common room that evening.

"Rakata," I reply quietly, not glancing up from the journal I've started writing. "Good luck finding any books or anything on it. Or anyone else that knows it." I grin.

"I'll say," Cassie agrees. "I don't even recognize that alphabet."

"I wouldn't write this in the common room if I thought anyone was likely to be able to read it over my shoulder."

"Well, there's spells to ensure privacy," Cassie says. "And I'd imagine you might want some enchantments to make sure it isn't destroyed or anything."

"And I'd like to make copies," I say. "And get some of those copies hidden in places even I don't know where they are."

"There's also spells to link a book to other books so that things you write in one book magically gets copied into the others," Cassie says.

"Could those spells be traced to locate the other books?" I ask.

Cassie frowns thoughtfully. "None that I know of, but I won't discount the possibility that someone particularly determined couldn't manage to eventually develop one."

"Eh, good enough," I say. "So long as I have a few minimal backups that aren't linked up somewhere."

"You really are paranoid, aren't you," Cassie says.

"Yes," I reply flatly.

"You could store actual memories as well, you know," Cassie says.

"I could?" I wonder.

Cassie nods. "There's a spell that'll pull out a copy of a memory into a silvery liquid you can store into vials, and view with a Pensieve."

"Okay, I'm going to acquire one of those," I say. "And start storing memories."

There's enough room in Caer Danas to build a hidden and well-defended memory chamber, and at least I trust the defenses on my own house. And Tom will not have access to it. _Nobody_ will have access to it. Except maybe Rispy. Fuck sake, if there's one person in the entire universe that I can really trust, it's Rispy.

"Can you help set up the copying spells?" I ask.

Cassie nods, and casts a few spells, and instructs me in how to use a couple more. In a few minutes, there's a perfect copy of the journal I've just been writing in. To test it out, I write another line in the original journal, and watch it write itself in the second journal.

"That'll do," I say. I head over into my dorm room, which is thankfully unoccupied at the moment, and say, "Rispy."

The house-elf promptly appears, clad in a maroon towel. "Hi. Rough day?"

"Did you know Falk was going to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" I wonder.

"I knew there was a fair chance of it, after I got Lockhart out of the picture."

"Who?"

"Be glad that you didn't have to find out who Gilderoy Lockhart is," Rispy says. "He usually spends the entire year trying to Obliviate everyone. I figured you'd rather deal with absolutely anyone than that."

I blink. "Yeah. Thanks."

"Although, color me completely unsurprised that you're managing to get yourself killed in Defense again."

I snicker softly. "Can you do me a favor? I've made a linked journal and I'd like you to hide the second one somewhere that I don't know where it is."

"I can do that," Rispy says, taking the book as I hand it to him.

"Thanks."


	5. All Souls' Night

There's a little shop tucked away down a small side street in Diagon Alley, squished between two buildings, but it's the place I'm looking for. _Hall of Memories_ , door reads. I would have never been able to find the place without Cassie. Inside, bowls in all shapes and sizes line the floor, barely allowing room to walk, and the shelves are stocked with sets of vials, books, bells, and candles in a rainbow of colors.

It takes a few minutes for a wizened old man to come to the front and looks at me, Cassie, and Remus with dim eyes.

"Welcome. Looking for something to remember those who have left this world? We have a special ten percent off on all products for Samhain."

"Yes, I'm looking for two Pensieves—" I begin.

"Two of them?" the man wonders.

"One for me, one for a friend," I clarify.

When he overheard us talking about where we were going and why, Tom asked for one and said it might help with his project, and I agreed to pick one up while we were out here.

"Good friend," he says with a grin.

"I'd also like five hundred vials for that," I add. "And one thousand candles. Can you handle that, or should I pick up some of the stock from somewhere else?"

He barks a laugh. "That I can. You must be planning quite the event."

"Yes, I think he must have invited half of Hogwarts and their families," Remus says dryly.

Once we get home with the shrunken merchandise, I head off with my Pensieve and vials and get a room set up. The house seems to know that I want to defend the place, but I set up a few defenses of my own, such as that Revulsion Curse which I had cast without thinking. I had to look up the incantation, but I have no trouble casting it.

The room I'd picked has shelves already, and I unpack and set things up. Before doing anything else, I want to test this.

First, I put in the memory of the ritual on Beltane morning during which Tom attacked me. Even though I was only vaguely conscious of what was going on, the memory is clear and clean. And from the third person vantage point, I can see Tom grinning madly with wild eyes. Gerard was right. Tom knew exactly what he was doing here. Did he know there was a piece of him in me? He had to have. This seemed too deliberate. Voldemort deceived me, if not lied to me outright.

I pour a number of memories from my travels around the distant galaxy into the Pensieve. The ones after I woke up from being mind-wiped by the Jedi come out clearly, but the ones before that… Hazy people fade in and out. Blurry objects don't seem fully solid. I try viewing the false memories the Jedi had given me, and when I look, they're really obviously false. People are two-dimensional like cardboard cutouts, and the background looks like a matte painting.

There is, however, one memory that I absolutely wanted to check beyond anything else. The vision of the failed future Sardill showed me. I was a little afraid of what I might see so I saved this for last. When I enter the Pensieve again, I'm bracing myself.

"Let the Nexus be our Pensieve," the memory of Sardill says. I hadn't thought about what he meant at the time.

A memory of a memory. Unreal and hyper-real. I quickly realize that not only was Sardill not actually present for any of the events, but his own perception has left an overlay of Force sense beyond anything I would have thought possible. Although his senses are not completely clear to me, it's easy to tell that he perceives the world through a vibrant rainbow beyond mere vision.

And yet, after watching history replay itself for a while, I realize Sardill's perceptions are different. For all that he clearly traversed time and gazed in at the universe, he doesn't perceive time in the same way as me, either. He didn't so much travel through time as stepped into the Void and re-entered the universe at a different point. Past the Void between worlds, whatever was happening in this timeline could not affect him.

It's too much to take in, even on a repeat. Events sweep by in the blink of an eye, zooming in on scenes with snatches of speech. I wonder if there's any way to slow this down, or if I'm just chasing my tail again here.

"Reveal your true nature, demon," the memory of Jez'kai says, pouring palpable dark magic into Falk. Talons grow, wings spread, horns grow. I scowl as I watch. Was Falk really a demon the whole time, or was this something Jez'kai did to him?

Events blur past, revealing another scene.

"You think 'I'm sorry' means shit to anyone that died under that fucking asshole?" the memory of Falk growls at Suzcecoz. I hang my head. No, whatever he might be, have been, or might become, Falk isn't evil.

As the Pensieve approaches the critical moment, I think there's no way I could have done what I did on my own. Sardill must have done something. But if he had, it's nothing visible.

My past self stands in the center of the Nexus. The ancient magical device flares to life, the runes up and down the eight obelisks glowing cyan. One by one, the runes lining the streets of the city of Torn Elkandu start lighting up as well, blazing from their normal low glow into a blinding radiance. The color deepens, from cyan to blue, the color of my individual magical effect. That's… I don't think that's supposed to normally happen, is it? Lightning crackles along the pillars, and then down the streets. The light begins to flash, bursting like a wild thunderstorm. The image of Sardill vanishes.

"He's actually invoking the Trayziak Tatalyar," the voice of the Trickster god utters. I wasn't paying much attention at the time, but I know what he meant. I've heard the term before. Uttermost Confusion, or Ultimate Chaos, a reference to the branching nature of the multiverse.

The Nexus warps. In one blink of an eye, there's seven obelisks, or nine, or five. They're different shapes, straight, to curved, to entirely meeting overhead. What in the _Void_? I thought Torn Elkandu was effectively outside space and time, or something, but the Elkandu have been wrong before. After a few moments, it stabilizes, returning to the form I'm familiar with.

Then they start appearing, in flashes. People, from across space and time. Humans and elves. Men and women. A handful of dwarves, wolfmen, kitsune, beings I don't even recognize. Their faces, hopeless and despairing, are brightening with hope. So many of them, I never knew their names or faces. But I could find them out from this memory. I can replay this memory as many times as necessary.

In cracking lightning, they vanish one by one, each hopeless soul sent off somewhere and somewhen.

After spending the past year obsessing over this moment and running it through my mind again and again, I think this possibly raised more questions than answers. But one thing is clear from it all. My innate power was _never_ time travel. It's _alternate universes_. And knowing that, maybe I can learn to use that to my advantage somehow.

The image of the Trickster remained fixed throughout all this. My past self collapses and the Nexus fades again. The Trickster turns to me, the real me, where I'm standing watching this memory, and winks. He vanishes shortly before the memory goes dark and the Pensieve ejects me.

Well, _that_ was a little disconcerting. Best not to dwell too much on the whims of mad gods.

* * *

"So, you've decided to stop being a blood traitor, cousin Sirius?" Narcissa inquires pointedly.

"Yeah, well," Sirius answers. "When there's a Samhain party happening right in my house, it's hard to say no."

"You mean it's hard to say no to a party," Remus corrects.

"Why is that werewolf here?" Lucius says, looking to Remus.

"Because Harry said so," Sirius says.

"Harry is the cause of everything weird," Theodore puts in.

"Why are _you_ here?" Blaise asks. "I thought you didn't want to be involved in any weirdness."

"Because literally everyone else is here," Theodore replies.

Fred and George Weasley came wearing smiling and frowning drama masks, which I have no doubt that they're swapping frequently just to confuse people. They've been trying to hand out candy which, after causing at least one person to temporarily turn into a large canary, no one else is taking the bait on.

"Mudbloods and blood traitors," mutters an older man I don't recognize, probably a former Death Eater.

"Are they really blood traitors if they're at a Samhain party?" Blaise asks.

Draco whispers to me, "Try not to murder anyone."

"I'll try really, really hard," I whisper back.

"Where's Tom at, anyway?" Sirius says. "He's missing the party!"

"This isn't supposed to be merely a party," Lucius groans wearily. "This is a celebration to honor the dead, and— oh, never mind," he finishes in frustration as Sirius runs off down a hallway.

Grooves worn in my mind. A dread of something terrible happening on Samhain. The Dark Side is strong today, and the air steeped with death and the dead. Yet I'll defy that fear and stare into the Abyss, even as I feel it staring back at me.

"And you two," Lucius growls, turning to the Weasley twins. "This is supposed to be a solemn and somber even, not a _Halloween_ party. Put those sweets away. And what are those foolish things you're wearing on your faces?"

"Comedy and tragedy masks," the one in the comedy mask replies.

"They represent that we're sad about those who have passed," the one in the tragedy mask continues.

"But we're glad for their lives," the other finishes.

Lucius stares at them as if trying to determine if they're sufficiently solemn.

I look about the room, my eyes scanning each of the guests, considering which of them, if any, I might want to eventually bond. Tom said that it would be inadvisable to add or change any of my current bonds further until we had unraveled and tracked down what had come before. But afterward? I don't know. Does anyone in this room deserve to live more than any other?

Sirius returns to the great hall. "Tom says he's busy but said he'd come out later. He's gotten so serious since he left school."

"He grew up, you mean," Remus says.

One by one, we all approach the candles I've set about the room and light them, speaking the name of someone dead and gone.

"Fabian Prewett," says one of the Weasley twins as he lights a candle.

"Gideon Prewett," says the other to his own.

Sirius lights a candle. "Regulus Black."

"Lily Evans," says Snape.

"James Potter," says Remus.

I speak mine in a whisper, soft enough that no one should be able to hear me. "Harry Potter."

For a moment, I think I see a little boy's face in the smoke, smiling at me, and I feel, he doesn't blame me for taking his place. He doesn't blame Dumbledore for placing him with the Dursleys. He doesn't even blame the Dursleys for his death. The Harry Potter who died at the age of five is a much more charitable person than I ever was, and the thought of that shames and humbles me.

* * *

"You didn't come out to the gathering," I tell Tom. "People were wondering about you."

"You mean Sirius was wondering about me," Tom states, not looking up from his work. Runes cover every border of the room, running down to a circle in the center. The Pensieve sits off to one side with a smaller circle of runes surrounding it.

"What are you doing in here, anyway?" I ask. "You've been working on that ever since I got home with that Pensieve for you. Have you even slept?"

"I am setting up an experiment that I wish to have ready in time for the hour of midnight. And I am fine."

"Will it be ready?" I ask.

"I believe so," Tom says. "Will _you_ be ready?"

"What do you need me to do?"

"Die."

"Alright, I'll go take a nap first," I declare.

I don't go off to do so just yet, though. A nagging worry still tugs at the back of my mind. Do I trust him?

"I'll let Gerard and Cassie know too," I add.

Tom grunts. "If you must."

I return to the great hall. All of the candles have been lit, and although some people have gone home, some of the guests are still milling quietly. Sirius is asleep on a couch, a partly-full glass of pumpkin liquor on the table beside him. Next to him, Remus sits quietly gazing into the fireplace. The children sit around the table, finishing off the last of the pie and treats, but Gerard is the only one still willing to touch the Weasley twins' questionable candies.

"He's _still_ busy?" Cassie asks, and I nod.

"Are we going to perform a ritual at midnight?" Gerard asks, to which Hermione perks up in interest.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," I say. I glance over at the table. I figure Draco would go along with it, and probably Brax, though I have no idea about Luna, but I hadn't really meant to bring it up in front of Ron and Hermione.

"What are you planning?" Hermione asks. "What sort of rituals do people perform on Samhain?"

"Honoring the dead, usually," Draco answers. "Though if Theodore were still here, he'd say it would be something weird, since Harry is involved."

"Perhaps something wyrd," Luna says. "The Stormseeker is quite wyrd."

"You're a fine one to call people weird," Draco states.

"I believe she means the sort with the Y," Brax corrects. "Fateful."

"Tom's got something in mind," I say. "Won't tell me the specifics, but I've got a general idea what." I smirk. "This had better be good."

Gerard raises an eyebrow at me. "You going to go through it? Whatever it is?"

I chuckle. "It'd kill me from curiosity otherwise. Besides, I'm pretty sure it has something to do with the alternate universe research he's been doing. I'm going to take a quick nap first, though." I pause. "Just in case anything ever goes horribly, horribly wrong, I've registered a will with Gringotts."

Admittedly, they wanted me sign it under my birth name, Lexen Skywalker, but accepted Stormseeker for some reason. Regardless, the Potter properties are legitimately mine.

"Or anything goes horribly right and I wind up in an alternate universe or something," I add.

"Harry, if you think you might die, why are you doing this?" Hermione asks.

I grin wildly. "Don't worry. Trust me."

"Well, _those_ are certainly ominous words," Ron says.

"I trust the Stormseeker," Luna says.

I get an idea. "In fact, let's make it a full Circle of Nine, if you guys are up to it."

"Count me in," Gerard says without hesitation, and Cassie nods. Following their lead, the others murmur words of agreement as well, misgivings or otherwise.

"Great! Okay, I'm off to nap. You guys do so, too, if you're tired, but I'll make sure Dobby wakes you up if you're not down to the laboratory by eleven thirty."

* * *

Tom groans as we file into the room. "Fortunately for you, Cassie mentioned that you had arranged a Circle of Nine and I was able to make some rush adjustments to the ritual, but it should still work. Perhaps better. Are you certain about this, Harry? Are you all certain about this?"

"I'm sure," I say. To hell with everything. If I can't bring my friends along, I want them to at least be up to speed on what's going on. The only people most likely to be reading their minds already know anyway.

"Very well." Tom nods. "Let me explain. We will be attempting to send people to an alternate universe, as a test. It will be almost identical to this one. Be aware that the energy required to transfer a body is great, so this ritual will only send the soul over. Do not be alarmed if one or more of us appear to die."

"How can we not be alarmed if someone _dies_?" Ron wonders.

"We will not be _dead_ ," Tom insists. "We will merely have had our consciousness transferred to an alternate universe."

"It might be more accurate to say that we split off an alternate universe, I think," I say. "But since the number of alternate timelines is theoretically infinite, the distinction shouldn't really matter."

Hermione blinks. "That's fascinating. I hope you left enough notes that I can figure it out myself if you're not around."

I step into the circle in the center of the room and look around at the setup.

"Form a circle around me," I order. "Between the spokes on that wheel of runes."

Tom might have intended to lead the circle himself, but not this time. I'm going to take control of my own destiny. I don't really understand what all the runes do, but I've got a good feeling on the rest. And the words? That will be the easiest part. I'm going to need to learn runes on top of everything else, when I make the time to. It's a good thing I'm a Time Mage.

The others move into position. The Force almost seems tangible, tickling at my skin and rising to a crescendo as midnight approaches. Tom hands me the ritual knife, humming with energy. I've decided to use Ancient Greek this time, although it may take some focus to make sure I _stick_ to Ancient Greek. I feel like even my Rakata journal might not be entirely in Rakata.

From this position, I can feel them around me, ready to support me.

"Lend me your strength, my friends," I declare.

Midnight ticks over. I can _feel_ it.

"By the turning moon, let us cross time."

I cut my right hand, letting the blood spill out into the runes.

"By the unconquered sun, let us cross space."

I cut my left hand, getting the knife rather messy with my still-bleeding hand.

"By the ever-changing world, let us cross reality."

Energy blazes around me, and I cut my throat to complete the ritual.

* * *

I wake still buzzing with power, almost outright giddy. I climb out of bed and head back to the main hall in Caer Danas, and arrive at the same time as Tom.

"Holy _shit_ ," Ron ejaculates.

"It worked?" Tom asks with a touch of surprise.

Hermione turns to me and says, "For a minute there I thought you were going to bleed to death. But then in a flash of light, we woke up back at ten o'clock."

Remus, hearing the commotion, comes over to us. "What's going on?"

"We came back in time!" Ron exclaims.

"That's not _technically_ what happened," Hermione corrects. "We entered a very similar alternate universe."

"Can you double-check that it _is_?" I ask. "Everything more or less where you remember it?"

"All sweets accounted for," Gerard declares, holding aloft some of the candy Fred and George had left.

"There are no more nargles in your house than usual," Luna observes.

"The amount of booze left in my dad's cup is the same," Cassie sniggers, glancing over at the lightly snoring figure on the couch.

"Here's to a successful new ritual," Draco toasts, raising a mug of butterbeer.

"Would anyone else be capable of repeating these rituals?" Brax wonders. "Not that I believe you would share the details."

"I doubt it," I say. "I'm pretty sure they'll only even work for someone of my bloodline." What's more, I doubt I could actually repeat any of them without the help of Tom or Cassie, but I don't need to mention that part.

"I thought so," Brax says.

"Huh," Remus says. "And here I was worried that you children would sneak off to perform questionable rituals at midnight. This was not at all what I might have expected."

"Trust me, they have not been unsupervised," Tom says. "I believe Time Magic rituals are stronger when performed by children, strangely enough."

"How curious," Remus says. "You could have mentioned beforehand what you were intending on doing, though."

"Sorry," I say, not at all sincerely.

We gather around the table to finish off the sweets, whilst Hermione asks prying questions wanting to learn everything she can about the use of runes in that ritual. Ron is more interested in what sort of uses that it could be put to. Luna goes off into a lengthy discussion on some fanciful creature that lives backward through time. Some of us wander off to sleep one by one, but me, there's no way I'm going to sleep tonight, and I don't look like the only one.

The fireplace flares green, and at first I think one of my friends who had left has come back or a parent come to pick one up who is still here, but instead, Snape steps into the room.

"Snape, you're back," I say.

"Potter," Snape says, glancing around at my friends, his eyes resting upon Sirius and Remus. "Is anyone else still here?"

Sirius yawns and blinks up at him. "Well, if it isn't Sn—"

Snape growls, "By the gods, Sirius, if you call me 'Snivellus' I will hex your tongue to the roof of your mouth." He steps forward, leaving bloody footprints on the tiled floor. Part of his black robes are shiny with moisture.

"You're hurt!" Hermione cries. "What happened?"

"Hogsmeade has been attacked," Snape says. "Werewolves. The staff went out to defend the school. Two of the teachers are dead, three more wounded who might still not survive. I don't know how many of the townspeople. Falk ran off to try to hunt down one of them."

"Fuck," I utter.

"I was hoping to find backup here," Snape goes on. "But it seems most of the adults have gone home."

"Remus and I can help, for whatever good it might do," Tom says. "I'm afraid Sirius is still too drunk to be trusted to throw a curse straight."

Draco frowns thoughtfully. "Can we perform that ritual again?"

"But it's two in the morning now," Hermione says.

"It should still work," Gerard says.

"What ritual?" Snape asks, raising an eyebrow.

Hermione looks between us. "Harry was testing a ritual to shift people into an alternate universe. We… went back a few hours to a timeline very similar to the one we started off in."

"That won't change what happened in _this_ universe, though," I point out.

"Maybe not, but it can still change the universe we go _to_ ," Cassie argues.

Snape frowns. "There's nothing to be done about the dead now. But if this attack can be prevented, even in a slightly different timeline, then by all means let us do it."

He meets my gaze for a long moment, and I can feel him brushing against my mind. I don't bother trying to push him out. Let him see. Let him know this is real.

"I must go back with you," he demands. "We will need someone who was on the front lines to know exactly what happened."

"I can take eight people with me," I inform Snape. "I don't know if it will work properly with any more or less than nine in the circle."

"Twenty-seven might also work," Tom considers. "But we don't have nearly that number right now."

"Nine will do," I state.

"Didn't you say they were stronger with children?" Remus says.

"I don't know stronger in what way, but I'm sure it will work with adults just fine," I say.

"If I bring in those who are likely to otherwise die, will this be able to save them, or will they cross over still wounded?" Snape asks.

"Only the soul transfers over," I say. "This will save them."

Snape nods. "I'll get them, then." He goes back over to the fireplace and tosses in some Floo powder. "The Hog's Head!" He vanishes in a burst of green flames.

"I'll make what adjustments I need to and make sure things are set up properly," Tom says, and heads back to the laboratory.

"Why would werewolves attack Hogsmeade?" Remus murmurs. "Was that why you were asking about Fenrir Greyback? They must be Black Spiral Dancers. Uncorrupted werewolves generally leave established magical communities alone. It's only when wizards try to push into their territory that they care, usually."

"If he's not involved, I will eat my robes," I declare.

"But why Hogsmeade, and why now?" Cassie wonders.

"It's Samhain," Draco points out.

"And Falk is teaching at Hogwarts," I add. "They seem to have some sort of history."

"So Falk brought this on," Ron grumbles, scowling. "Intentionally or not."

The fireplace turns green again, and Dumbledore comes out. At least he doesn't appear to be badly hurt as well. "Harry, my boy, what have you been getting yourself up to?"

"Did Professor Snape tell you what we have planned?" I ask.

"He explained it briefly," Dumbledore answers. "I will not be participating in this ritual, but I wished to take a look first. I'm afraid I am needed here. If you are to go, someone will need to pick up the pieces of this disaster."

Hermione looks to me and accuses with a touch of panic, "You're going to leave us here, aren't you."

"You asked for my notes," I recall. "I don't know how much help they'll be, but if anyone can make it work, it will be you."

I head over to the laboratory, Hermione and Dumbledore in tow. Tom looks up as they enter the room. Hermione's attention is focused on the runic complex around the room, but Dumbledore's eyes are firmly fixed on the other person in the room.

"Tom?" Dumbledore says.

Tom fumbles for a moment, taken by surprise, and raises his wand. " _Obli—_ "

" _Expelliarmus_ ," Dumbledore casts, knocking Tom's wand out of his hand and sending it clattering to the floor.

"What—" Hermione takes a step back.

"Tom Riddle?" Dumbledore demands. "What are you doing here?"

"Saving these people's lives," Tom retorts.

"You tried to alter my memory," accuses Dumbledore.

"I'm Thomas Hawke, and I'll prefer to stay that way," Tom says.

"Tom Riddle?" Hermione repeats. "That name sounds familiar."

"Also known as the Dark Lord Voldemort," Dumbledore declares. "Do you intend to sacrifice these innocents in some foul ritual?"

"They'll be fine!" Hermione stammers. "We already performed the ritual once and it works fine!"

I sigh and put my face in my hand. "I'm sorry. I didn't get a chance to warn you, Tom. And I didn't even think to warn you, Headmaster. I've gotten so used to having him here, and that nobody remembers who he is."

"I'm not too happy about that, either." Hermione frowns. "But I'll forgive you if you give me your notes."

Tom smirks faintly and hands her a Muggle spiral notebook. "By all means."

"You trust him?" Dumbledore asks, confused. "He has really caused no trouble here?"

Hermione flips through the notebook, eyes lighting up.

Tom looks him in the eye. "I was driven mad by the rituals I performed in an attempt to gain power and grasp at immortality. They restored me and healed me, along with my sanity. I've been trying to build a new life and perhaps in some small part make up for the damage I caused. I've given you my notes. You are welcome to try to duplicate Harry's rituals, if you can figure out a way to. We won't be in this timeline long enough to care."

Cassie pokes her head in. "They're coming."

"Harry's rituals?" Dumbledore asks. "Not yours?"

"No," Tom replies. "I helped him set them up, but they are tied to his bloodline, and it would likely be very difficult for anyone else to use them. Maybe you'll find something useful in my notes nonetheless. Now, if you would, I would like to finish setting this up, before the wounded that Severus is bringing in bleed to death from werewolf bites."

Hermione clutches the notebook to her chest. "Thank you," she gushes, heading out of the room.

"Very well," Dumbledore voices reluctantly. "If it's Harry doing this, I cannot object. I only hope I do not regret this."

Dumbledore backs into the hallway and gets out of the way as Snape leads in the wounded. Flitwick has lost an arm, Hagrid's been mauled down his entire left side, a large, bald man is missing a leg, and a teacher I don't know the name of has taken a nasty gut wound. Snape helps them to their positions.

"They've been patched up to stop the bleeding, but werewolf claws and fangs cause aggravated wounds that are difficult to heal even for magic," Snape says. "This is the best hope for them."

"You believe this will work?" Dumbledore asks.

"It had better," Snape grumbles. "If it does not, I will find a way to give Potter detention for life."

"Remember," Tom says. "We will look like we died. The ritual can only transfer the soul and memories, not the body."

The badly wounded teacher, clutching her stomach, looks around at the room. "The rune structure here is wonderful. I just wish—" she steadies herself with her other hand against the floor, "—that I were in better shape to look at it."

"Sorry, it's a secret," I say with a faint grin. "This ritual belongs to the House of Potter."

"Understandable."

"How far will we go back?" Snape asks.

"Ten o'clock," I answer. "You'll wake up wherever you were at that time, not here. You'll need to warn whoever you can and get into position from there."

"Yes, Potter, get on with it," Snape grumbles impatiently. "Ten o'clock should be fine. Who will take the last two positions?"

"We will," Cassie says, entering the room with Gerard.

Dumbledore looks at him and inquires, "Gerard, was it?"

Gerard laughs and looks him in the eye. "See you on the flip side, Albus." He winks, and closes the door. "Alright, let's do this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to rytan451 for proofreading and comments.


	6. Black Spiral Dancers

Tom and I walk into the main hall of Caer Danas again.

"Holy _fuck_ ," Ron ejaculates. Apparently Ron is feeling more vulgar in this timeline.

"Ritual worked," I say. "Hogsmeade's about to be attacked. We performed it a second time to come back to try to prevent it."

" _What?_ " Ron splutters. "Shit."

Brax frowns. "Then let us make haste to warn them."

"I brought back some of the teachers who had been wounded in the fight," I tell them. "They'll be able to muster the staff, but they'll need backup. Head back to your homes and warn your families, and _stay safe_." As the others file into the Floo, I turn to Hermione. "Stay here, please. This house is well-defended and you don't need to be on the front lines."

"No," Hermione argues. "I should help to defend them. I can fight…"

"Hermione, you're twelve—"

"Thirteen," she corrects. "You forgot my birthday again."

"Damnit, I knew I was forgetting something," I mutter. "Look, I won't stop you. But don't get any feelings of grandeur here. Any of you that insist on coming to fight, I want playing backup from the top floor of the Shrieking Shack."

"The what?" Hermione wonders.

"The house that's reachable through a secret passage at the base of the Whomping Willow." I think I remember that, at least.

"That's the Lunar Lodge," Remus corrects. Okay, it's slightly different in this timeline.

"Whatever it is," I say. "There's no other open entrances, right?" Remus nods. "You'll be able to give fire support from there without being in immediate reach of attack, barring them tearing down half the building."

"We're going, too," Cassie says, Gerard nodding beside her.

"Remus, can you get them in position?" I roll my eyes at the sleeping figure on the couch. "Sirius can sit this one out."

"We could force-feed him a potion to sober him up," Remus suggests. "He'll kill me if I got his daughter hurt."

"He can hold down the fort." I smirk, and wave to them. "Cassie can take care of herself, and they'll probably show up anyway even if you try to forbid them to. Go on. I need to call in some more help."

Remus nods, and goes to take Hermione, Cassie, and Gerard off to Hogsmeade.

"You didn't really have to sacrifice them," I tell Tom quietly once we're alone.

"The additional power would have helped," Tom replies. "Besides, they were dying anyway."

"The Dumbledore in that timeline will notice," I say. "And the ones we brought back will _remember_ this, though."

Tom shrugs unrepentantly. "Did you want it to work, or not?"

"Ugh. Rispy!" I call, and the house-elf promptly appears. "I could use your blade at my side tonight."

"Then you have it." Rispy is already clad in leather armor.

"Did you know—"

"Stop asking me if I _knew_ what was going to happen," Rispy snaps. "Every timeline is _different_. Sometimes you can change something big and yet the same thing happens anyway. Sometimes you can change the tiniest thing, even something you didn't realize was a change at all, and the whole timeline shifts. Sometimes you don't realize that you were in a universe with different starting parameters than you thought."

"Sorry," I say sheepishly. "I didn't mean to imply that."

Rispy sighs. "For what it's worth… this doesn't usually happen. Did you do anything that might have gotten the attention of the Black Spiral Dancers?"

"I talked to Falk about Jez'kai," I reply, then frown deeply. "Shit."

"Yeah…" Rispy groans softly. "It was a chain reaction you couldn't have predicted. Don't blame yourself. Let's just go kick some werewolf tail."

* * *

"Mr. Potter, you should take shelter in your dorm," McGonagall says as I approach the castle gates. "It will be dangerous out there."

"I know." I pull out my lightsaber and ignite it, blue blade shining in the autumn night. "But I also have one weapon that, according to Falk, should be able to cause some real damage to werewolves, and I know how to use it."

Falk's own weapon of choice appears to be some sort of rifle. "Is that a _lightsaber_?"

"Yep!"

"How the fuck did you build a lightsaber?"

"Padawans do it all the time."

Falk snorts softly. "For all that, it had better work as advertised."

Remus comes up to us and offers us a handful of bottle caps. "Dumbledore made Portkeys to take us to safety if things go too badly. I've also added some extra wards to the Lunar Lodge to protect the ones providing fire support. The trigger word is the surname of the current Minister of Magic."

I take one and put it in my pocket. "Why do Dumbledore's passwords always seem to involve candy?"

"You fucking wizards should just evacuate them all behind wards and fucking let me handle this, but I don't think I'm gonna fucking convince you otherwise." Falk turns toward the castle.

"Wait, where are you going?" I ask.

"I'm setting up a sniper's roost on the Astronomy Tower."

Both Remus and I stare at him dumbfounded as he walks away. Does he have some sort of vampiric enhanced senses or something? I guess he must.

Snape approaches me once the others have gone off. "Fortunately for you, your ritual worked, although I must question the methods you used to perform it."

"Yeeeah, that part wasn't my idea and he didn't tell me he was going to do that beforehand," I say quietly. "But he claimed it wouldn't work otherwise."

Snape sighs. "Much as I dislike this dark turn of your magic, there are many in Slytherin House whose families perform far worse than sacrificing themselves to save people."

Rispy pops in, yellow lightsaber in hand. "They're coming."

The pack emerges from the woods. They're transformed, even though it's not the full moon. The form is that of a monstrous wolfman standing tall on two legs, not a four-legged animal nearly indistinguishable from a normal wolf. I can't get a good count of them from here, but there must be at least a dozen. Rispy and I take to the front lines.

Spells fly, but the werewolves hardly seem fazed. They ignore cutting spells as the wounds close over in moments. They shake off ice, and barely pause for lightning. Their claws crush shield charms. Some of the wizards' tangling or hindering spells manage to hold them for a minute, but they're too strong to keep them down for too long. No wonder this fight had gone so badly the first time.

"Damnit. Was _nobody_ briefed on how to fight werewolves?" I yell to Snape, "Fire magic! Tell them to use fire spells! Or silver!"

Snape nods. " _Sonorus_." His voice echoes loudly across the village. "Use fire or silver. Repeat, _use fire or silver_."

I charge in close enough to swing my lightsaber. The first swipe scores a glancing blow, but the creature stops the second one with its claws. What the _hell_ are a werewolf's claws made of that they can hold off a lightsaber blade? I wish I'd had time to set up a minefield. This is worse than fighting a rancor. At least the other wizards have switched to using spells that might actually hurt them and are starting to pull their own weight in this fight.

One werewolf in the edge of my vision suddenly turns and attacks its packmates. Someone must have gotten off some sort of mind control magic. It seems to do more harm to its pack than most of us are managing. With a wave of her wand, McGonagall transmutes blades of grass into silver needles, effectively covering the ground in caltrops. I'm impressed that she managed to use the "matchsticks to needles" spell _offensively_.

A distant crack splits the air, and the werewolf next to the one I'm fighting staggers and stumbles to the ground, clutching its shoulder. Rispy takes advantage of the opening to finish it with a powerful swipe that removes its head.

With Falk peppering the field with sniper fire, the tide of battle quickly turns in favor of the wizards, but some of the werewolves are taken shelter inside buildings. I chase one of them into Honeydukes candy shop—a black-furred one that looks familiar.

"Jez'kai," I call out.

"So, you've heard of me. Were you the one who warned them about our attack?"

I blast him with Force lightning and charge at him. "I won't let you hurt anyone else."

"My, aren't you a feisty one." He blocks my attack with his claws in between words. Fucking werewolf claws. "Why don't we make a deal?"

"What the fuck could you possibly offer me?"

"You are not stranger to the Wyrm." Jez'kai grins wildly. "I can smell it on you. I can offer you… enlightenment."

"The fuck's the Wyrm?" I push forward, forcing him back further into the shop.

"Oh, I could tell you all about the Wyrm. The mighty spirit that will cleanse creation. And it could offer you knowledge of the universe beyond anything you could have dreamed of."

I pause in my tracks. Another me might have actually been tempted by this. Another me whose sole priority was knowledge, to seek out at any price. But I'm not that me. Some prices are too high. Some of the prices I've already paid in some other lifetimes were already too high, I think. I'm not about to go down that road again.

"No."

"What a pity," Jez'kai says, sidestepping my attack. "And here I thought you might possibly be interested. No matter. I'll be here if you ever change your mind."

"I've got you cornered and I'm going to kill you. No, you won't."

He knocks over a display of chocolate frogs. The amphibious treats hop out of their containers in every direction, and I have to swat them away.

"Cornered me? Not at all. All your wizards are busy fighting out there…"

He turns and scrambles to the back of the building, where I realize too late there's a secret passage leading straight to the school. I chase after him, throwing lightning as I go, but he's too quick running on all fours. I can't keep up. Damnit, all the children are in there! Was this his plan all along? No wonder he was willing to commit forces to an attack like that. As a _distraction_.

Note to self: Hogwarts defenses aren't actually that great.

I should call for help here. " _Expecto Patronum_ ," I try casting, but I'm having a hard time focusing and hardly get glowing mist out of it. Damnit.

I pull back my rainbow scarf. Yes, rainbows. That was it. All strife will pass. A happy eternity. Fuck, I don't even know how much I believe that, but I have to. I am the eye of the storm. I should have enough emotional control to pull off spells that require it.

" _Expecto Patronum!_ " This time, the silvery, translucent dragon comes forth. "Tell Dumbledore, Greyback's in the castle! Fall back!" The dragon nods and darts off into nowhere.

I've almost lost him. At least he doesn't seem to be heading for any of the dorm areas. Darting this way and that, trying to lose me, but I think he's heading for the Astronomy Tower. He must have noticed where the sniper fire was coming from. He's going to catch Falk off-guard. I scramble up the stairs, falling behind and feeling winded. I'd like to think I'm in pretty good shape for my physical age, but this chase is starting to wear on me and there's only so much I can do.

"Rispy!" I call out.

The house-elf pops in beside me, and stumbles upon appearing on the stairs. "We're back in the castle? Shit."

"To the top!" I yell.

"Got it!"

Rispy charges on ahead. I don't know where these small creatures get their stamina from. He and Jez'kai emerge onto the top of the tower ahead of me. Gunshots. Flashes of light. Falk was not quite as off-guard as I'd feared. When I emerge into the night air, the werewolf's fur is singed and the vampire's right arm is wounded. With Rispy and I having joined the fray, it's now three on one.

"Time for you to die, Falk," growls the werewolf.

I swoop in and slash down with my lightsaber, cutting off his tail. "Don't turn your back on me, Jez'kai."

He yelps in pain and surprise. Falk takes advantage of the opening by lifting a pistol with his good hand and popping a few quick silver rounds into him. I press my attack before he can recover, and between the three of us, the werewolf goes down. I cut off his head for good measure. As I stand panting over the dismembered corpse, it shifts back into human form.

"Is he really dead?" I say. "He should damned well be dead."

"He'll be back," Falk says grimly.

"Ugh." I put my lightsaber away and lean against the railing at the edge of the tower, exhausted and sore. I peer down toward Hogsmeade, but I can't see much from this far.

"Looks like the battle's winding down and the wizards are mopping up."

"I'm guessing you can see that far because of some vampiric gifts?"

"They're called disciplines. I had to learn them. They weren't just given to me. But yes." He examines me critically. "You don't fight like any wizard I've ever seen."

I smirk. "I'm not a very good wizard."

"There aren't very many good wizards here," Falk says. "Your teachers and some of the reinforcements you brought in handled themselves adequately, though."

" _Adequately_?"

"This would have been a rout if it weren't for your time shenanigans and you know it."

I sigh. "Yeah. I know."

"Best go and regroup. Come on, you two."

I follow after him down the stairs. Entirely too many stairs. He's looking pretty pale himself, his cheeks sunken and his skin tight, now seeming more like a member of the undead than the living human he can usually pass as.

"Falk. You're a vampire. Don't you need blood?"

"I'll definitely need to fill up after burning so much on disciplines tonight. The house-elves bring me pig's blood. Terrible shit, weak, takes a lot more of it to top me off, but I won't drink from humans."

"You couldn't feed off those werewolves?" I wonder.

"Fuck no." Falk makes a face. "Their blood is strong, sure, but it'll take the beast's rage with it, too. Not to mention they're Black Spiral Dancers, so it's probably tainted on top of that."

"And your arm?" I ask.

"It's not pressing right now. I'll heal it up once I get some more blood in me, but it'll still take a few days to fully heal."

Dumbledore comes up around a corner, wand in hand. "There you are! Where's Greyback?"

"Dead," I say. "Set on fire, shot up with silver, decapitated with a lightsaber dead."

"He'll be back," Falk says. "He always comes back."

"What's the situation on the ground?" I ask.

"Under control," Dumbledore says. "There has been a good deal of property damage and a number of injuries, but the werewolves have all died or fled. I am uncertain if anyone was killed."

"Good," I say. "Better than could have been expected."

"This should have never fucking happened. The castle's defenses are piss poor if he managed to get in here so easily, and the village is even worse. You can't just fucking rely on warding off Muggles and hoping nothing shows up that can do any damage."

"There are defenses—" Dumbledore protests.

"Not. Good. Enough." Falk punctuates his words with a shake of his finger. "You hired me for Defense Against the Dark Arts. If this doesn't count, I don't fucking know what does."

"How could Greyback even get in here in the first place?" I ask. "I thought Hogwarts was supposed to have some sort of defenses, but he just ran right through a secret passage. He knew where it was and what he was looking for, too."

Dumbledore explains, "He attended Hogwarts, once, but he was expelled in his fifth year for attacking another student when he turned into a werewolf."

Falk snorts softly. "This whole werewolf wizards thing is really fucking weird. Not your fault, though. They start at school before they'll have had their First Change, so they might not even know they're a werewolf yet. Sometimes they don't change until they're in their late teens."

"Wait," I say. "You mean to tell me that anyone that went to school at Hogwarts can just walk right in? The school's defenses are supposed to be among the best in the world. It says so in _Hogwarts, A History_. I should know, I've got a friend who has digested it at least half a dozen times."

"The defenses are better than that—" Dumbledore continues to protest.

"Headmaster!" I bark. "I just watched a murderous, insane werewolf charge down a secret passage straight into the school! If anyone had been in the hallways, they could have been _killed_!"

Dumbledore sighs. "There may be some holes in the defenses."

"And remember that troll incident last year?" I add.

"Many holes," Dumbledore admits.

Falk puts his face in his palm. "Alright. Once the situation settles, we're going to meet with the other teachers and sort out some better fucking defenses."

"Agreed," Dumbledore says.

* * *

I should probably have anticipated that everyone in the wizarding world would know I'm a Time Mage by morning. I passed out in my dorm room and slept for most of the day. When I wake up to go down to dinner, I spot a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ someone is reading, with the headline "BOY-WHO-TIME-TRAVELED".

I groan. "This is just stupid. Can we, as a people, move beyond the need for hyphenated titles already?"

"Are you really from the future?" Ron asks.

"Yes. No. Sort of."

"From the future of an alternate universe," Hermione clarifies.

I blink. "Yes. That."

If anyone were to pick up on it right away, I should have expected it would be Hermione. Now I just have to wonder how this is going to affect things. I knew I wouldn't be able to keep it quiet forever, though. If you actually want to keep something a secret, you shouldn't tell _anyone_ , after all. And I wasn't really even bothering to keep it a secret. I just didn't see much need to mention it.

"Mate, if you're from the future, alternate universe or otherwise… how are you so bad at Potions?" Ron wonders.

I smirk. "Pass me the salt, would you?"

Hermione's eyes light up as something occurs to her. "That's how you knew how to build a lightsaber! You'd already figured it out and designed one in the future."

"Let's go with that," I chuckle.

"Really, though, why _are_ you so bad at magic?" Ron asks. "Are you just faking it, or what?"

"Not faking it," I admit. "I got amnesia. Don't remember much. I came back to Hogwarts to try to relearn skills I'm sure I must have once had."

"And you can shift people into alternate timelines," Hermione comments.

"I keep telling him we need to study this more," Cassie puts in. "This will be great! Just think what we might be able to do with it!"

"I'll prefer to not keep doing it just to keep anything bad from happening," I say. "I don't even know that it'll even be reliable enough for _that_ much. We got lucky with the timing, this time. We won't get lucky again. My luck is _never_ good."

"Hmm, do you think it's likely that your bad luck is actually literally true, rather than simply a perception from your perspective?" Cassie muses.

I pause, frowning. "I… never really thought about it like that."

"We have to test this!" Cassie insists.

" _How?_ " I wonder.

"Get him to lose at Exploding Snap some more," Blaise suggests.

I roll my eyes. "I think I'm just bad at Exploding Snap."

"At least you stopped exploding the table," Blaise says.

"We should use _science_!" Hermione exclaims.

"But Muggle science doesn't work at Hogwarts," Ron says.

"That's technology, not science," Hermione corrects. "Although technically, even a stone knife can be 'technology'."

"Do I get a say in this?" I wonder incredulously.

"Nope!" Cassie says brightly.

Dumbledore calls me into his office after dinner, unsurprisingly. I have to remind myself that _this_ Dumbledore doesn't realize I'm hanging out with Voldemort and Gellert Grindelwald. I don't know that I want to find out just yet how he might react to that when and if he finally does find out.

"Harry, my boy. I understand you've been performing dark rituals and human sacrifice on Samhain." His eyes twinkle.

I have to laugh aloud at that. "You're welcome."

"You doubtless saved many lives, but I have to question how you did it," Dumbledore says.

"It's not really something that I care to do often," I say. "I can't say that I plan to regularly ritually sacrifice myself. Under the circumstances, though, I felt it was worth it."

"Perhaps you could develop a ritual that does not involve human sacrifice?" Dumbledore suggests. "Professor Babbling is quite impressed and fascinated by the prospect, and has asked if you will enter her Ancient Runes class a year early, if you are willing and can fit it into your schedule."

I smile. "That would be great."

"The course is primarily theoretical, and I am uncertain as to how much you already know about rune magic, but perhaps it would be helpful nonetheless."

"I don't know much," I admit. "I'll be glad for the opportunity."

Dumbledore goes on, "She is thankful to you for saving her life. Regardless of the means you used to go about it, she considers it a life debt to the House of Potter."

"Was it really necessary that absolutely everyone know about the time travel thing, though?" I ask.

"There was no way to keep it quiet," Dumbledore says. "I apologize if this is inconvenient for you."

I wave a hand. "I'll deal with it. What's one more bit of weirdness?"

"The Minister of Magic has called for you to be removed from Hogwarts," Dumbledore adds.

I roll my eyes. "Come on, seriously?"

"Needless to say, I am not heeding his recommendation."

"Thanks," I say.

"Now, I'd imagine you'd like to be running along back to your common room," Dumbledore says. "I have a meeting with Falk and the other teachers on improving the defenses around Hogsmeade and the castle. If what Falk tells me is correct, this will not be the last we hear of the Black Spiral Dancers."


	7. One Jump Ahead

"Stormseeker, what do blue grackles mean?" Luna wonders.

I glance up from my homework. "What?"

"You have blue grackles around you, as well as the red ones I would have expected from a battle like that," Luna replies.

"What are grackles?"

"They're insects that attach themselves to the auras of those who have killed," Luna explains. "They consume the unreleased energies from their deaths. But I've never seen blue grackles before."

"What about suicide?" I suggest. "I killed myself to complete the ritual to bring the wounded teachers back in time."

"Hmm, that might do it," Luna muses. "I would not imagine that most people who kill themselves would remain alive to attract grackles."

Blaise leans in. "Is Luna talking about something weird again?"

"You didn't believe her when she said I was a time traveler from another dimension who had a pair of pet monkeys either." I grin.

Blaise blinks. " _Do_ you have a pair of pet monkeys?"

"Nah, I gave them to a zoo."

"Maybe we should start taking Luna more seriously," Blaise says.

Luna reaches into her bag and pulls out a pair of glasses with wide rims covered in pink whorls. "Here, these are Spectrespecs. They'll let you see wrackspurts."

Blaise pauses, raising an eyebrow. "You know what, I'll try it."

He puts them on and peers about the room, alternately frowning, smiling, and making weird faces. A few people look at him strangely. He takes them off and hands them back to her.

"Nope, can't see shit," he says.

"True, there don't seem to be many in the Slytherin dungeon today." Luna looks off at nothing. "People must be very clear-headed today."

"After a night like that, who wouldn't be?" Hermione puts in. "So, Harry, how old are you really?"

"No idea," I reply cheerfully.

"Isn't it a little weird to be sleeping amongst children, though?" Hermione asks.

I raise an eyebrow. "Not really? Why would it be?"

"I mean, if you're not really a child," Hermione clarifies.

"It's a bit more complicated than that," I explain. "For all that I have scattered memories of alternate futures, both strange and very much like this one, I _am_ still effectively a child. I've lost a lot of skills and knowledge, and even if I could find a way to make myself look older, I don't see why I would want to do so right now."

I'm sure I could. After all, I made people younger. I probably knew how to change my own age at some point. Right now, though, it hardly seems to matter very much. I'm fine with things as they are.

"It _is_ kind of weird having some sort of ancient time traveler in our dorm room," Ron says.

"Would you prefer Lord Voldemort?" I grin.

Ron makes a face. "Don't _say_ things like that."

"Would you prefer your dad?" Blaise asks cheekily.

"Don't _say_ things like that." Draco winces.

"Can I have everyone's attention for a moment?" Gemma Farley announces in her best prefect voice. "Unfortunately, all Hogsmeade visits have been canceled for the remainder of the year."

"Aw, man," groans a third year boy.

"Fortunately, we are continuing classes as normal," Gemma continues, ignoring further groans at that. "Also fortunately, the Headmaster convinced Falk that we do not have time in our schedules for extra Defense Against the Dark Arts classes."

"Thank Merlin for small favors," Draco mutters.

"Well, more studying couldn't hurt," Hermione says. "But I have some other things in mind for our study schedule."

" _Our_ study schedule?" Draco wonders.

"We," Hermione declares, "are going to test Harry's luck. This will require a great many games of chance."

I put my face in my palm. "I think I might prefer additional Defense classes to that."

"Oh, now _this_ sounds fun." Blaise grins widely.

* * *

I'd expected Falk to sit out the next week of classes for his injury, even if other classes would still be ongoing as usual, but there he is on Monday. He looks like hell. Pasty, sunken skin is pulled tight against his cheekbones. The sleeve of his longcoat is ripped, and he hasn't even bandaged up his arm, the deep claw wounds clearly visible. Some of my classmates look as though they're going to be sick at the sight.

"And this," Falk announces pointedly, " _this_ is why you don't go toe-to-toe with a werewolf."

The class is silent for a long moment, some staring at him, some unable to look.

"Will you be alright, Falk?" Hermione asks.

Falk nods. "I'll be fine. I just wanted to make a point."

"Point made!" Ron declares.

"Now," Falk goes on. "Let me tell you how to fight a werewolf without getting yourself slaughtered. And this is an important point when fighting pretty much anything. _Don't give them a fair fight_."

"That should be the new Slytherin motto," Draco comments.

"I'm fond of explosives," I put in. "Incendiary mines? Silver shrapnel?"

"I like the way you think," Falk says. "Point to Slytherin for paying attention in class. Also, remember, kids, even if your device has a magical component, you won't get in trouble if it at least _looks_ like it should work like it does."

"With the Ministry?" Hermione asks.

Falk snorts. "The Ministry's Obliviators work to clean up the messes wizards sometimes make. They keep you from suffering paradox backlash. Sometimes I think they should just let them have it and see how well they like it, if it wouldn't compromise more than just the ones at fault."

"I don't understand," Hermione admits. "What do you mean, paradox?"

"Hoo boy. Remember how I said you lot were pretty ignorant so far as mages go?" Falk explains. "And I don't just mean you kids, that's not your fault, I mean your community here as a whole. They don't fucking tell you _why_ the Statute of Secrecy exists. They don't tell you what the real consequences of uncontrolled, vulgar magic would be, and it's not just that Muggles might find out about magic and start burning witches at the stake or begging people for miracle cures."

"There's more to it than that?" Hermione asks. "Does this have anything to do why Muggleborn children aren't allowed to use magic at home but it's alright for ones living in magical households?"

"Bingo." Falk points a finger to her. "Point to Slytherin for you, too. It's because…" he pauses dramatically. "Muggles don't believe in magic. Muggles don't believe in the supernatural."

"What does that have anything to do with it?" Draco wonders, confused. "Magic is real. It works. Believing in it or not shouldn't change that."

"The world is shaped by belief more than you realize," Falk says. "Another question for you. Why do Muggle electronics not work inside Hogwarts?"

"Magical interference," Draco answers.

Hermione suggests, "Because too many people here don't believe they'd work?"

Falk grins. "Have another point. Now, you know what happens if you do something obviously magical in front of a bunch of Muggles?"

"Obliviators show up and you get a fine?" Draco ventures.

Falk rolls his eyes. "What happens if there's no Obliviators?"

"Muggles will find out about magic?" Ron tries.

"No," Falk says. "They won't. For the most part, any Muggle that sees magic won't believe it. They'll rationalize it away. They'll reject it from their way of thinking. It's not part of their reality. And their reality pushes back."

"Paradox?" Hermione says.

"Point for you," Falk says. "Yes. Paradox. Pray that the Ministry never breaks down badly enough that the Obliviators can't clean up your fuckups. That's probably what happened to Voldemort, mark my words. Those Death Eaters were doing some seriously blatant shit and he caught a face-full of paradox backlash."

"So it's better to just blow stuff up?" I ask.

Falk snorts in amusement. "Whatever the Ministry might say, you don't need to avoid using magic around Muggles entirely. You just need to make it seem like something normal and plausible. And of course, supernatural beings don't count. Werewolves, vampires, fucking centaurs, whatever. You ever wonder why you never have problems with dragons getting loose and rampaging through London? They can't exist in the Muggles' reality. They avoid it."

"This doesn't even make sense," Draco protests.

"I'm reserving judgment here," I say. "I know better than to declare something is wrong out of hand without thinking about it."

Especially considering I've got memories of multiple universes, each using magic in different ways. I'd imagine that the wizards and the Jedi would not even recognize each others' methods of using magic and the Force as the same thing at all, never mind being compatible. _I_ know they're rooted in the same sort of power, though. Maybe it has to do with the fact that, with my recurrent amnesia, I've learned new ways of performing magic from scratch over and over again without and preconceptions of how magic should be used.

"This is why I'm teaching you about Muggle weaponry," Falk goes on. "This is why you need to be creative with how you use your powers. Reality might be your plaything, but you're in the minority in the world."

* * *

"There are a lot of better things I could be doing with my time than this." I sigh as I deal out another hand of cards. "And is this really going to prove anything?"

"For that matter, why are we using Muggle playing cards?" Blaise wonders.

"To make sure our tests aren't biased by anything exploding," Hermione explains.

Blaise pauses thoughtfully. "Point."

"Where did you even get those?" Draco wonders.

"I borrowed them from Dean Thomas," Hermione says. "He wants to be a Jedi, by the way."

I chuckle. "Doesn't everyone?"

"Now, we need to find out if there's any merit to the hypothesis that you are in some way innately unlucky, or whether it's simply due to you being reckless due to thinking you're immortal," Hermione goes on.

"But I _am_ immortal!" I argue.

"And a reckless idiot with no sense of self-preservation?" Rispy puts in with a grin.

"My point exactly," Hermione says. "If you go into a situation thinking you can just go back in time and fix it and that it won't really affect anything, you'd be looking at things from a different perspective than if you _weren't_ a Time Mage."

"So what are the cards going to prove?" I wonder.

"If you actually have literal bad luck, you will get unfavorable outcomes more often than not," Hermione explains. "We want to have you deal out a set of hands to you and Blaise, Blaise to deal out a set of hands to the two of you, and Blaise to deal out a set of hands to me."

"There's that 'we' again." I smirk.

Hermione adds, "Ideally, we'd want a set of hundreds of points of data."

"I am not going to deal out hundreds of hands of cards," I sigh. "I don't _like_ games of chance. This is stupid."

"Oh, quit whining," Draco says. "Once she's got an idea in her head, there's no dissuading her."

"Would you prefer if I got some cards that are more educational, like rune flashcards?" Hermione asks.

I pause thoughtfully. "Sure, that sounds good."

* * *

"You did none of that rune work yourself?" Professor Babbling asks.

"No, ma'am," I reply. "I didn't."

She snorts softly. "It's no good, letting others write your runes for you. Even if you trust them, who knows what they might be writing? Notwithstanding not even being able to read them properly in the first place."

"True," I say sheepishly. "I've had so many other things to do."

"You're a Time Mage," Babbling points out. "You have all the time in the world?" She chuckles. "That's what they say, and that's what I've seen myself. From what little I saw, there was nothing in those runes that would have done what they did on their own. Power runs in bloodlines, often times. I don't know if any of the Potters had that sort of magic, but maybe you got it from your mother, lay sleeping for generations until the magic arose again."

"Maybe," I allow.

Could that really be true? I've always had this power, no matter where or when or who I might be. Could Harry Potter really have had the same sort of bloodline as Lexen Skywalker? Maybe I'm Harry Potter precisely because he's an exact mirror to Lexen Skywalker, down to the very blood and soul, somehow. I won't pretend I know exactly how alternate universes work. Yet, at least.

"You want to do your rituals, you should learn," Babbling goes on. "I only teach theory here, but it seems like you've been trying to revive ritual magic again, so who knows what might happen in the future. You shook up the world as a baby, and it seems you're not going to stop. You call yourself a Dark Lord and you perform dark rituals and you still manage to use them to help people. I don't know what to think of that, but I would be dead in a doomed timeline without you, so I'll help you however I can."

"I'll learn whatever you'll teach me," I say.

"Excellent." Babbling straightens. "It will probably take you many years to learn the seven thousand runes of magic, but you have time, don't you?"

My eyes widen. "Seven… _thousand_?"

"Most people never learn half of that, of course," Babbling says. "Are you motivated and patient enough to learn them all?"

"Yes."

"That's what I like to hear." She grins, seeming positively excited at the prospect.

"… could I get some flashcards or something?" I ask.

* * *

"You really ought to sleep sometimes," Rispy points out.

"I've been sleeping," I yawn.

Sitting on the table in front of me, Rispy peers over the book I'm reading, upside down. Another book about the Muggle world, this one about the United States. For all that I've been claiming to be from there, I realized I knew very little about it.

"What was the paragraph you just read, then?" Rispy asks.

I blink at the page. "Dunno."

Rispy chuckles. "You're always trying to do too much at once. You've got eternity to learn everything you want to. And don't be afraid to delegate the less important things. You don't have to do everything yourself."

"Professor Babbling said I should learn to do my own rune work," I say.

"Yeah, sure, and how long will it take you to get to that point? Years? Decades?" He swings his feet over the edge and hops down from the table. "So, what else has been on your plate? Give me a rundown."

I look off at the ceiling, thinking. "Besides the runes and Muggle social studies? And keeping up with my classes? Trying not to completely fail at Potions? Hermione and Cassie are still trying to figure out what makes my powers tick. And Fencing Club? Oh, I promise my friends lightsabers, too, once they could handle them."

"Alright, how about I take that last off your hands?" Rispy says with a smirk. "I can put together some lightsaber parts. I know how to make them, and you really don't need to do that personally."

"Yeah, okay," I say. "That'd be great, thanks."

Rispy grins. "Somebody's got to check your sanity. I've finally got you sane. Don't want to be losing you again."

"Relatively speaking?"

"Well, you're not flying into a rage and going on a mass murder spree," Rispy replies. "Nor angsting endlessly and repeatedly committing suicide. Not even being paranoid, terrified of everything, and attacking anyone that surprises you or wakes you. And most importantly, not making yourself forget again and again and again. I consider this a plus. You're still obsessing over every detail and performing tedious tasks the hard way, but I'll take what I can get."

I rub my face. "How did _you_ ever stay sane?"

"By just rolling with it or doing my own thing regardless." He barks a laugh. "Maybe I'll train a Padawan. Some of the children in Fencing Club are promising."

"They're too old to learn to use the Force properly," I say with a grin.

"Think I should take on a Muggleborn who hasn't started learning magic yet?" Rispy muses. "We'll see. At any rate, you get some sleep, 'kay? You can't compress several hours of sleep into half a minute."

"Hmm," I hmm thoughtfully.

Rispy snickers. "Until and unless you can figure out how, you're just going to have to sleep normally."

* * *

I return home for winter break. It's just me, Cassie, and Gerard this time, with Hermione and Ron going off to their respective families. Whether they're celebrating Christmas or Yule, it's still a time to be together with family. I don't plan on performing any big rituals this time. Rispy's right about that. I need a break.

"Harry!" Sirius greets me at the train station. "How's school been?"

"How have you been doing in your classes?" Remus asks.

Remus leads us off to a Muggle automobile of all things, and we get inside. It's spacious and comfortable inside, the seats maroon to match the exterior. Remus takes the driver's seat. Probably just as well. If Sirius knows how to drive one of these, I would not want him behind the wheel anyway. Sirius takes the passenger seat, and we children flop into the back seat.

"Nice car," I say. "Why aren't we just Apparating?"

"It attracts less attention," Remus says. "The Ministry's been trying to crack down on use of magic around Muggles."

"Meh, fuck the ministry," I mutter.

"I'll chide you for your language and heartily agree with you," Remus replies.

"You got any Yule parties planned?" Sirius adds.

I roll my eyes. "I wasn't planning anything big. Tom's still busy, I take it?"

"Yeah," Sirius says. "Not as much as he was before, though. I've managed to get him out of the house a few more times. He keeps wanting to go to that pub in Knockturn Alley. He wanted to visit a really shady bookstore once, too. I went along to humor him, but he didn't buy anything. He wandered into a back alley behind the bookstore and just looked around. Dunno what he was looking for. Kind of weird."

"Huh," is all I can say to that, wondering what in the world he could be up to.

I lean over and look out the window as the scenery goes by. I haven't really had the opportunity to see much of the world outside of the Hogwarts vicinity, Diagon Alley, and a few old wizarding manors. Well, I should rephrase that. I've had plenty of opportunity. I just never thought to bother. Short-sighted of me, really, but going sightseeing was pretty low on my list of priorities. It's rather pleasant and relaxing to just watch as Remus drives us from London to Wales.

"Where _is_ Caer Danas in relation to the outside world, anyway?" I wonder.

"Near Cardiff," Remus replies. "That's where I'll be taking you guys, and hopefully Tom as well, to go see a movie in a day or two."

"Cool!" Gerard exclaims.

"A movie?" Sirius asks. "Like _Star Wars_?"

"No, this one is animated," Remus says. "It's called _Aladdin_. I'm sure you kids will enjoy it."

"Sounds fun," Sirius says, then pauses for a long moment. "Heeeey, I'm not a kid."

"You were definitely included in that statement," Remus says with a touch of amusement.

It's late when we arrive home, and I go off to find Tom. In the laboratory, as usual, hunched over the Pensieve. Since my last visit, a set of rune-covered stones has been added to the room, eight at the compass points on the circle and one in the center.

"There you are, Harry," Tom says.

"You remembered I'd be getting on winter break today, didn't you?" I ask.

Tom doesn't answer that. "I've identified one of the soul bonds that was attached to you," he says. "A simple demonic pact. For all the trouble this demon inadvertently caused, I do hope that you got something good out of it."

"A demon?" I repeat. "I made a pact with a _demon_?"

Tom rolls his eyes. "Yes, you did. Why do you sound so shocked? That's hardly an unusual activity for a Dark Lord."

"I mean, I'm not generally one to allow another any sort of power over me." I look at him pointedly.

"Yes, I rather doubt this demon had any real command over you. At my best guess, it was feeding off of you like a parasite, taking a bit of energy or emotion as its sustenance in exchange for whatever you bargained for."

"Well, whatever it was I asked for, I don't think I'm getting any benefit from it _now_ ," I grumble.

"Once I can summon this demon back, you should definitely claim compensation for several lifetimes worth," Tom says drily.

"Wait, you're going to summon a demon?" I raise an eyebrow.

"I would if I could," Tom replies. "That would at least solve the issue of this ragged thread of a soul bond. Unfortunately, I don't have nearly the power necessary for it."

"A ritual?" I ask.

Tom shakes his head. "No ritual I know of can reach directly from one world to another. This isn't merely a case of being in a different timeline. So far as I can tell, the three unknown bonds are from a completely different universe from our own."

"What about the Nexus?" I suggest.

"Explain."

"Ah, well, there's a powerful magical device called the Nexus located in a city called Torn Elkandu, inside the Ethereal Plane. It's supposed to allow teleportation to any universe, so they say at least."

"Interesting," Tom muses. "That definitely sounds like an excellent prospect, then. You know how to get there, I presume?"

"Uhhhh…"

Tom sighs. "You don't know how to get there."

"I probably did once…"

Tom puts his face in his palm. "That is stunningly unhelpful, Harry. Well, at least now I know there's a likely prospect. Give me any memories you have relating to it and I'll see what I can do."

I nod, and go over to the Pensieve. Before I start putting in memories, I notice an image swirling in the basin, and I have to raise an eyebrow.

"Is that a… mouse?"

"Yes, Harry, that is a mouse," Tom replies. "Your rodent identification skills are stellar."

"Why is there a mouse in the Pensieve?"

"That's the image that I was able to retrieve of the aforementioned demon," Tom explains. "Presumably, it took the form of a mouse or had been summoned into the body of a mouse. A good shape for remaining unnoticed, as it could readily play the part of someone's pet without anyone raising eyebrows unless it did something really blatantly demonic."

A distant memory tugs at the edges of my mind. "I asked him for everything he knew about the Ethereal Plane."

"Ah," Tom says. "That would be a reasonable request. You remember?"

"Not really, but I'll give you what I have anyway," I say.

I put my wand to my head and pull out memories, one by one, in silvery strands, and put them into the Pensieve's swirling basin. Memories of the Nexus from various angles, and some different parts of Torn Elkandu for good measure. Ah, and Drakanna, the headquarters of the Dark Elkandu. They'd built their own Nexus there. I include that one as well, along with some people telling me about them. That done, I try to bring out what little memory I have of this mysterious demonic mouse. This is going to be a very hazy one, but maybe Tom can make sense of it.

"Hope this helps," I say.

"I will take a look at these," he says. As I turn for the door, he gestures me back. "No, I want to have you along to explain what I'm seeing."

"Alright," I say, and dive into the Pensieve's memories after him.

We find ourselves on the streets of Torn Elkandu, underneath the swirling black and purple sky. Faintly glowing cyan runes line the streets, giving off enough light to see by. Memories of me and Keolah stand by the Nexus, its rune-covered obelisks spiring into the sky. Tom approaches the Nexus and examines it.

"Harry, take a look at this. Have you been studying your runes?" he asks, and I nod. He goes on, "Do you recognize these?"

The runes along the Nexus and the streets are strange triangular runes, fitting together at each angle. They are completely unlike any that I've been learning about or have seen Tom, Cassie, and Gerard use in their rune work. The runes we've been using fit together on square angles, even when in a circle they're still laid out next to one another.

"Not at all," I say. "I don't know what this sort of rune system is, but I never learned it."

The memory shifts, and we're now in the School of Thought. We follow my past self around the campus as he checks out classes one by one. Diagrams of the layout of the cosmos, lectures on basic magical principles, practical classes on simple spells.

"Did any of the classes here teach more advanced studies?" Tom asks. "Did anyone mention the runes used in Torn Elkandu?"

"Not that I recall," I say. "It's possible it was well above my level, but I seemed to be pretty indiscriminate about which classes I looked at here. Some of these were already very much beyond me."

"I suspect that your Elkandu here did not construct the Nexus at all," Tom says. "The material used is also different from the rest of the buildings here. It's like nothing I've ever seen before, either. No material I know of, much too smooth to have been created by hand, no doubt shaped by magic. There's nothing in these classes on how to create this material with magic, either?"

I shake my head. "Nothing even close to that."

"It seems to me like they merely discovered a device much older than them," Tom muses.

Our surroundings shift again, and we're in Drakanna. I didn't spend a lot of time looking around here after I woke up in Torn Elkandu, but it's recent enough that I still clearly remember it, since it's from past the time I was having memory problems. While it bears close physical resemblance to Torn Elkandu on the ground, the sky is strikingly different. Instead of gently swirling, the sky here is wracked with violent storms, distant lightning occasionally crackling in the air.

Tom frowns as he surveys the area. "What is this place?"

"Drakanna," I explain. "A different realm, a different Nexus. This one belonged to the Dark Elkandu, an uncreatively named sect of Elkandu who 'went bad'. They claimed to have created their own Nexus, but if what you say is true, they must have just found another one and decided to set up shop there for strategic purposes. It's what I would have done."

"We may yet be able to reach them from this universe," Tom says, putting his hand on his chin. "They might even be _in_ this universe. If they predated the Elkandu by long enough, they might well be around here in some form. I will need to look into this further."

The scene changes, and we're surrounded by clouds. Memories of objects blur in and out, surrounding a relatively clear image of my past self. For scattered moments, a mouse scurries along on the floor, nibbling on something.

"Let me see if I can clear this up any," Tom says. "I'm good at dealing with memories."

"I've noticed," I say drily. "You still haven't hit Dumbledore."

"I'll get the chance." Tom smirks. "Hopefully I can catch him by surprise this time." He turns his attention to the cloudy memory. "It's difficult to reconstruct a memory that has been purged or altered, but not impossible, especially for the one who caused such changes in the first place."

He focuses intently upon the scene, and the image of the mouse steadies, followed slowly by a vague impression of the room around us. A wooden building, with a bed. Perhaps an inn room. There's no possessions around to indicate that the place is lived-in. And the mouse is eating cookies. My past self and the mouse seem to be speaking to one another, but our voices are distorted and I can't make out any words. Then the door opens and we're joined by a dark-skinned man wearing entirely too many belts.

After some more talking, my past self pulls out his wand. " _Expecto Patronum_ ," he casts, the words coming out mostly clearly. But the ghostly creature that emerges from the wand is not a dragon, but some sort of bird.

"Your Patronus was a duck?" Tom raises an eyebrow.

"Liberty…" I whisper.

The duck darts off to deliver a message, and shortly after, a snake Patronus appears and speaks in Tom's voice. "… my family … small village … are you still in the tower?"

"That was _my_ Patronus," Tom says quietly. "I could cast the Patronus Charm?" He pauses, then adds, "I had a family?"

The scene shifts again. We're standing in a forest, the sun shining down brightly from overhead. A small encampment surrounds us, and I readily pick out the faces of Tom and Gellert from the bunch. This one… was a strong memory. A powerful memory. Something I feel like I could never, should never forget, and yet I forgot it nonetheless. And as the scene stabilizes and clears, it becomes quickly apparent that something was very, very strong then. My past self stands still, transfixed and staring off at nothing, frozen as though under a paralysis spell. The past Tom looks alarmed, and comes up to try to grab me, but his hands stop short. He's concerned. He seems genuinely concerned about me.

"You remembered me," the present Tom murmurs. "I really did care about you."

The air warps, and my past self breaks out of the spell. He raises his wand and casts, " _Expecto Patronum!_ "

The duck appears again, radiant with light, but it seems to be battling something.

"I will take my freedom," says my past self, turning his wand upon himself. " _Avada Kedavra!_ "

In a flash of green light, the scene goes dark and we're expelled from the Pensieve.

Tom rubs his eyes. "That…" He trails off, failing to find words.

"I do not understand what happened there," I say.

Tom shakes his head. "Nor I. But… I believe I shall have to take your word on what you claimed about me."

"Thank you," I say quietly.

"I will need to think about this and look into this further," Tom says. "And try to clean up these memories and find some answers. But what you have provided me should help considerably."

"I hope so," I say, and lick my lips, trying to calm myself. I am the eye of the storm. Even if that was a rather disturbing memory. "Why don't we go get something to eat, before they send out a search party for us? You _have_ been remembering to eat, haven't you?"

"Dobby brings me food, sometimes." He smirks faintly. "Yes, I do generally go out to eat in the dining room. It's much more comfortable there, and Sirius and Remus are not terrible company."

"Come on," I insist. "Let's go. It will still be here later."


	8. Coming Together

"I can show you the world…" Gerard is singing again.

"Ugh," I mutter, putting my face in my palm. "He's been singing those songs nonstop ever since we got out of the theater. Why did we have to go see a musical?"

Remus chuckles. "Well, it _was_ a Disney animated movie. Those tend to involve a good deal of singing."

"So, Harry," Tom says. "If you found a magic lamp with a genie that could grant you anything in the multiverse, what would you wish for?"

I ponder on that for a moment. "The multiverse not to be destroyed or fucked up beyond recovery, and myself to not be destroyed or fucked up beyond recovery."

"What, not power or knowledge?" Tom asks.

"No," I say. "There's none of that I couldn't get myself with enough time and patience. I might ask for as much from some lesser, more limited being, but if the genie really _were_ capable of granting any wish, I wouldn't want to squander that on mere trifles."

"I can get behind those priorities," Sirius says.

"What I'm wondering is," Cassie says, "how do the Muggles know about wizards, flying carpets, genies, and all of that?"

"They don't," Remus explains. "But they still dream of it. They still imagine it. Even if they don't realize it's all real or potentially real, it's still buried somewhere in their subconscious."

Afterward, I drag Cassie and Gerard into the library, ostensibly to do homework or study. 

"Sup?" Gerard grabs a chair and sits in it backwards, leaning on the back to look over at me.

"I want everything you two know about the Ethereal Plane," I say.

Cassie giggles. "Now there's a big subject."

"While we're at it, why don't I tell you everything I know about movies, too?" Gerard adds.

I smirk. "I'm serious, here."

"No, that's Cassie's dad," Gerard says.

"Haven't we already gotten our quota of Sirius jokes yet?" I sigh in exasperation.

"Maybe it would be easier to start with what you _do_ know," Cassie says, ignoring Gerard's antics.

"Also what you're planning on doing, that might help narrow down the sort of information you need," Gerard says. "It's not exactly the sort of material they teach at Hogwarts. Among other things, it's knowledge related to demon summoning, which of course got labeled 'dark' and banned from public circulation. Not like that's the _only_ use of it, though. Are you planning on summoning a demon?"

"No," I reply. "I mean, yes. I mean, that's not exactly— It's a bit more complicated than that."

Gerard laughs aloud. "Leave it to you to complicate demon summoning."

Cassie puts her face in her palm.

"Technically, I am attempting to locate a specific demon that apparently I once made a pact for knowledge with in some other lifetime," I say. "And while I've got a good lead on where to find it, it's apparently not even in this universe."

"It's in the Ethereal Plane?" Gerard says. "The Abyss, or some similar realm?"

"Ugh, I don't even know precisely where the universe in question might be in relation to our own," I say. "At any rate, that's not what I'm trying to locate. Not directly, at least. I'm trying to locate a place that would help in locating it. There are… pocket realms, tiny places the size of a small town, that contain a powerful teleportation device called a Nexus."

"Now _that_ sounds intriguing," Cassie says.

"If we can find a Nexus, we can get access to any universe we want," I go on.

It's at this point that I'm pretty much kicking myself for having no idea how to actually get back to Torn Elkandu. That's just plain _stupid_. Didn't I just use the Nexus after I woke up in Torn Elkandu? But, I wasn't even thinking about how to use it, and all I did was use the Nexi in Torn Elkandu and Drakanna to go _to_ other places. I didn't do the reverse. I suspect it probably has something to do with the fact that I have very little memory of Torn Elkandu at all, and even less of actually using the Nexus. I think it was always cut off from me. But if the pocket realms actually exist in _this_ universe and they're _not_ the same ones, this could be interesting.

"So you want to find an Ethereal realm but don't know enough about the Ethereal Plane to even get started?" Gerard infers. "What, not going to ask Tom for help?"

I smirk. "He's exploring his own angles, but I'd rather not leave it up to him."

"Smart," Gerard says.

"Weren't you just saying you already had too many things on your plate?" Cassie asks.

I snicker. "At some point, they kind of all wind up tying into one another, don't they? At this point, I'm just looking for quick rundown of information and where I might even be able to get started on this."

"You could summon a demon and ask it to find a Nexus for you," Gerard suggests.

"Not really my first option, but I'll mark it down as Plan D," I say.

"You could also ask Falk about it," he goes on. "He seems to know his stuff."

"And what if _he_ thinks I'm getting up to demon summoning?" I ask.

"Which you are, except it's complicated," Gerard says with a grin. "Most likely result, you get killed and reset. No harm done."

"Thanks for the stunning reassurance there," I say drily. "Now to just figure out how to broach the subject without getting killed before I can get an answer…"

* * *

Yule gifts. Christmas gifts. Whatever they are, a pile of them has been stacked underneath the tree in the main hall of Caer Danas. A shining star tops the tree, and white candles dangle from its branches in a way that I'm glad that there are probably fireproofing spells up. Probably. It's midnight, and I'm wide awake, having taken a nap in the evening out of some sort of paranoid habit.

Remus is already sitting by the tree, waving his wand over the packages one by one. "Harry? What are you doing up so late?"

"Took a nap earlier, and now I can't sleep," I say. "What are you doing?"

"I've been checking all the gifts for curses," Remus explains. "It never hurts to be cautious."

"Can't be too paranoid," I say. "Anyone trying to kill me this year?"

"Do people normally try to kill through the post?" Remus wonders, raising an eyebrow.

"Occasionally," I say.

"Fortunately for you, the only thing to have gotten through the standard post filters was a Howler from the Ministry of Magic," Remus says. "It landed on the tree and exploded into screaming flames, fortunately causing no real damage."

"I'm glad I slept through that," I say. "What are they complaining about now?"

"Something about you being an evil Dark Lord, the second coming of Voldemort or Grindelwald. I wasn't too clear on that point," Remus says. "And how since Hogwarts is clearly a school for the Dark Arts, they've cut all funding."

"They _what_?"

"Yes, not to worry, the school won't be shutting down," Remus says. "The Noble Houses more than picked up the slack. Sirius made a generous donation himself."

"But Hogwarts doesn't teach the Dark Arts," I protest.

"I know that, and you know that," Remus says. "The Ministry, however, will believe what they want."

I snort softly. "For all that trouble, they might as well be guilty of the crime they're being accused of. Half the things the Ministry labels 'Dark' aren't actually dark, anyway."

Remus sighs. "I know you mean well, but I do have to question some of the things you've gotten yourself involved in."

"You mean like whether or not it's morally acceptable to ritually sacrifice people on Samhain night in order to send them back in time to save their lives?"

"… Yes. That."

"Seems like _everyone_ knows about that, now." I grunt. "Which is probably why the Ministry is denouncing me, and Hogwarts in general."

"Well-meaning or not, even _you_ can't deny that that was a dark ritual, Harry," Remus points out.

"Yeah," I say with a sigh. "I know. It was a last, desperate resort to a dire situation."

"I'm not arguing that it was wrong to have done so," Remus says. "The ends, perhaps, justified that means. However, I do have to wonder how you even knew how to do that and that it would work, and that it required a human sacrifice to do so."

"I didn't," I say. "I'm really not sure how much you caught, given that we lived through that evening more than once. But the first run was a test to see whether or not it would work at all. It was performed at the hour of midnight, with no human sacrifices, and it worked perfectly. We didn't get notification that Hogsmeade had been attacked until two in the morning. At that point, since it was no longer midnight, we weren't sure if it would work and wanted to be absolutely certain that it would. They were already sitting there bleeding to death regardless. It wouldn't have made much difference."

"It may have been justified this time, but what about the next, and the next?" Remus asks. "Where do you draw the line before you fall down the slippery slope?"

"Trust me, alright?" I say. "I know myself, and there are some lines that I will not cross no matter what." I rub my eyes. "He spoke to me, while we were fighting. Jez'kai did. He offered me knowledge, power, enlightenment. I told him no. I'm not interested in the sort of _enlightenment_ he might offer."

"Well that you did," Remus says. "The Wyrm is not to be trifled with."

"He mentioned the Wyrm as well, but I'm not quite clear on what it means. In non-crazy talk, at least. Is that some sort of dragon?"

Remus takes a seat on the floor and lets out a long groan. "That's a bit of a complicated subject, Harry, and not one that wizards generally look into. It's strange how people who would wield the power of reality itself have little idea what the underlying forces of nature really are."

"People always tell me things are complicated," I say. "I suppose that's payback, in a way, for how often I've used that excuse myself. Tell me anyway, please."

"There are three fundamental principles of reality, and their embodiments are the Wyld, the Weaver, and the Wyrm," Remus explains. "Respectively representing creation, order, and entropy. In an ideal world, the Wyld would create, the Weaver give structure to those creations, and the Wyrm wear them down to make room for new creations. But the world is out of balance, and these great beings are now mad."

"I see," I say. "I'm following you so far."

"The Black Spiral Dancers serve the Wyrm," Remus goes on. "They're a tribe of Garou—pardon me, werewolves—who were corrupted by its influence."

"A tribe?" I repeat.

"In effect," Remus says. "Although they often recruit from other tribes. I am a Bone Gnawer, for instance. Jez'kai, as Fenrir Greyback, was once a Shadow Lord. Who, despite the name, are not necessarily evil in and of themselves."

"So, Jez'kai was trying to corrupt me to also serve the Wyrm?" I ask.

"Indeed so," Remus says. "If you had gone too far, you would have become a Nephandi. A corrupted mage. Some of the Death Eaters that followed Voldemort were actually Nephandi. They were the ones who were the most wild and bloodthirsty. Some Death Eaters would have followed along due to Voldemort's stated pureblood agenda, but the Nephandi were just along to destroy and wreak chaos. Many of the Black family ritually made themselves Nephandi. It was expected of Sirius, as the heir, but he refused and ran away from home."

Nephandi. Didn't Gerard mention that term once? I think he used it to refer to him and myself. And… in some ways, minus the rituals, that sounds very much like the Sith.

"So, you mean like Sith?"

Remus chuckles. "Yes. Exactly."

Well, shit. I turned away from the Dark Side, at great effort, and still didn't do so completely. I just found a balance. Most Sith never manage it. Once they get in deep enough, they'll keep committing pointless atrocities until you kick their ass and tell them to knock it off.

"I'd sooner cut off my right hand than reject the Light Side of the Force," I say.

"I don't think it's quite that simple, but that's good to hear," Remus says with a grin.

"But is it possible to _use_ the Dark Side without completely falling into it?" I ask.

"It probably is," Remus says carefully. "Just be careful, alright? Promise me that."

"I'll try," I say. "I can't promise that I won't wind up doing something stupid without thinking, but I'll certainly try."

"Well, at least you're honest about it. But, as Yoda said, 'Do, or do not. There is no try.'"

"True," I say. "I believe that there is no temptation. There is only choice. And so long as the choice is up to me, I won't go down that path. I promise."

Remus nods. "Good enough for me."

* * *

We exult ourselves in a shower of gifts of candy, books, and trinkets. And as I remember the last Yule I had at the Malfoys' place, a thought occurs to me with a smile.

"We should perform the Ritual of Concord," I suggest.

"The what now?" Sirius wonders.

I laugh aloud. "I guess your family was a bit too 'dark' to go in for the rituals that are actually _nice_?"

Sirius smirks. "You can say that again."

"It's an assertation of friendship, of coming together," I explain.

"Assertion," Remus says gently. "The word is 'assertion.'"

"Whatever," I say. "I was part of one last year, so I know how it goes. There's six people in the house—mages, at any rate, humans. We'll need to get a seventh. Shall we invite Hermione? She's spending the holidays with her parents but I'm sure she wouldn't mind coming over for a few hours. I'll send her an owl."

"We really just ought to get a phone line installed here," Remus says.

"And a television!" Gerard adds. "I've missed the telly."

"Sure, why not," I say, pulling out quill and parchment to scribble down a note for Hermione.

"In fact, if you kids really want a telly, I can take you to the store right now and see if they have any nice after-Christmas sales," Remus suggests.

"Really?" Gerard's eyes light up.

"Yes, this is an advantage of having a car," Remus says with a touch of amusement. "You can go places and do things."

"I guess I'll stay home this time," Sirius says.

"You don't want to come?" I ask.

"Going into the Muggle world would mean I have to put on trousers," Sirius replies dejectedly.

I smirk. "Truly going out of your way." I finish up the note and fold it up. "Alright, let me send this off and we can go."

Once the letter is on its way, I heard out front to find Gerard hopping around next to Remus' car.

"I want to sit in the front!" he exclaims.

I laugh and gesture graciously. "By all means."

There are times that I wonder whether or not he's simply very good at acting like a little kid, or if fifty years locked away in a prison with nothing to do but watch television left him more than a little deranged. Probably both. Not that I've been entirely unhappy to relive the childhood I don't remember. I would feel more like I was being excessively serious and intent for a twelve year old, if I didn't know Hermione.

We drive into town and head into a store selling a variety of electronic equipment. A large screen shows a band named Moontide, with a Japanese woman singing on a stage with multicolored spotlights, the sound system demonstrating clear, vibrant music. To another side of the store, keyboards, monitors, and computers have been set out for display. All the screens are attached to large black or gray boxes, but I suppose that's the limit of the current technology.

A grin spreads across my face as I look around. It's no spaceship, but it feels comfortably familiar, after having been so immersed in magic and castles. Reading about something in a book doesn't do much justice toward seeing it yourself. Once, I considered myself an expert with machines. I could slice into any computing system. I built my own assassin droid. Magic doesn't really work like that.

Or does it? Is a complicated series of runes all that fundamentally different than a programming language? A thought comes to mind from the memory that I've been replaying. " _She hacked the source code of the universe_ ," the Trickster had said. Is 'arcane programming' actually a thing? I'd never thought of it that way before.

Remus pulls me out of my reverie. "Harry, we're just getting the telly today. We can look at computers another time."

"Maybe for my birthday?" I say with a grin.

Remus chuckles. "We'll see."

On the way home, I can't help but wonder just what sort of power source is behind wizarding buildings. Magic, obviously, but it's never quite so simple as that. Lights go on and off. Water heats up. The house stays cool in the summer and warm in the winter. Wards stay up and protect the house. I never thought to wonder _how_. In all my wanderings in the house, I haven't run across anything resembling a power room. But then I haven't actually been looking for one, and that would seem like the sort of equipment, magical or otherwise, that you'd want to keep away from casual visits.

"So, Remus, I'm assuming you know how to set one of these up?" I ask as we're unloading the car.

While Remus went under the pretense of not using magic when in town, he doesn't bother any longer here. He taps the large, heavy box with his wand, and it obediently floats two feet above the ground after him.

"While your house was built before the advent of in-home electricity, there should still be a workable power source somewhere," Remus says.

"Should?" I smirk. "It might have been more useful to look _before_ we went and bought a telly."

"If we can't figure it out, I'll take it back for a refund," Remus says. "But we had to get it here to test it."

"That's a point, I guess," I say.

We bring the box inside and unpack it, and set it up to one side of the main hall. Experimentally, I flip the power switch. The screen shines to life, displaying an image of a man reading news reports.

"Works," I say with a grin.

I go over to sit down on the couch. The screen shuts off. I raise an eyebrow at it. Remus just smirks. I go back over to the television. The screen turns on again, the reporter continuing his spiel, unconcerned.

"Okay, what the hell?" I mutter, squatting down next to the device.

It occurs to me that electrical devices run off of electricity, feeling rather stupid at the realization, and that I have a general affinity toward lightning powers. I don't exactly have the fine control needed to try to power it with that intentionally, but at least I didn't have an electrical aura bad enough to have destroyed everything in that poor shop.

Gerard laughs softly and comes up to my side, and whispers, "This isn't that hard. Want me to set it up for you?"

I grumble. "I can figure this out myself."

Gerard giggles. "If you're planning to explode the telly, let me know so I can hide in the kitchen."

"Oh, come on, I don't explode _everything_ ," I groan.

"I don't think the shop covers refunds for spontaneous explosions not related to hardware defect," Remus comments.

I pull the box over and peer at the back of it. "Does anyone have a screwdriver?"

"I don't think they cover hardware being taken apart by a twelve-year-old, either," Remus adds.

Gerard murmurs to me, "Remember those runes you've been practicing? What series of runes do you think would cause the effect you want?"

I frown thoughtfully, then pull out a stick of blue chalk, the color of my magical signature. Onto the bottom of the television, I draw the runes for _small_ , _lightning_ , and _steady_ , very careful to get the lines correct. One stroke in the wrong place could still lead to this exploding. With a light brush of the Force, I activate the runes, which begin to glow faintly in a completely non-exploding sort of way. I right the television set again and walk away, looking back at it. This time the screen stays on.

"Looks like that did the trick!" Gerard says, clapping his hands.

"Chalk?" Remus says, raising an eyebrow and looking down at the piece in my hand.

"I drew some runes on it," I explain, putting the chalk away. "I've been trying to learn, but there's an awful lot of runes."

"I see," Remus says. "So you got a simple rune structure to work? I should tell your instructor you should get extra credit for that." He grins. "You only drew it in chalk, which would rub off easily, so you might want to get them engraved in something more permanent once you decide on a set you'd like."

"Runes are fun!" I say, taking a seat on the couch.

"I've _got_ to introduce you to the Doctor," Gerard says, fiddling with the knob.

"Who?" I wonder.

"We already did that joke once, Harry," Gerard says. "Let me show you who! If I can find him…"

"Gerard…" Remus says hesitantly. "I hate to be the one to break it to you, but _Doctor Who_ was canceled."

"Whaaaat?" Gerard whines. "Noooooo!"

"Maybe we could still find repeats of it, though?" Remus suggests.

"Harry!" Gerard grabs me by the scarf. "Teleport us into an alternate universe where _Doctor Who_ wasn't canceled!"

"I don't think it works like that…" I say, gently prying him off of me.

* * *

"Harry, your telly isn't plugged into anything." Hermione holds up a cord.

"Magic!" I explain cheerfully.

"Yes, I figured as much, but you should still put the cord somewhere that people aren't going to trip on it." She coils it neatly up and puts it out of the way.

"I should go get Tom," I say.

I head down the hallway and realize I'd forgotten to even mention the ritual to him. I probably should have asked him before sending a message to Hermione. But I'm not canceling this now. Since it requires willing participants, I'd have to find another person to bring in. Now I understand why the Malfoys keep Crabbe and Goyle on hand just to fill out the numbers if need be.

"Harry," Tom says, looking up at me with weary eyes as I push open the door and head into the lab.

"You look beat," I say. "Have you slept?"

"No," he admits. "I was intent upon unraveling this mystery and chasing down threads. It seems like I keep going around in circles sometimes, though."

"Sometimes the best ideas come while you're in bed," I say. "Either way, you'll think better on a clear head."

Tom grunts. "You're probably right."

"I'm planning to do a ritual," I say. "Do you want in the circle or shall I call in someone else?"

"What do you have in mind?" Tom asks.

"Ritual of Concord," I say. "With those in this house, plus Hermione."

"I believe you have mentioned that before," Tom says. "I am not familiar with it. What does it do?"

"It's an affirmation of friendship," I reply. "It gives a small boost to the participants' power when they use their magic together."

"That is acceptable," Tom says. "You will be leading the ritual?" At my nod, he goes on, "I take it you're planning for a noon or sunset ritual? It's already well past dawn."

"Noon," I answer.

"Very well. Let us go set up, then."

"I would have expected you to be more resistant to the idea," I say.

Tom snorts softly. "If you wish to drag me down this path of _love_ and _friendship_ , then so be it. I am not in a position to argue about it." He pauses, then adds quietly, "And those memories…"

"I can't force you into this one," I say. "It won't work if you're not willing. And I'm pretty sure it won't work if you're just in it for the power."

Tom sighs and leans against a wall. "Are you expecting me to feel genuine friendship for this?"

I bite my lip.

Tom stares at the ceiling. It's impossible to tell what might be going on in his head. "I will perform the ritual."

We head back out to the main hall and I gather together the seven candles necessary. Tom takes a long look at Gerard.

"Even Dark Lords can have friends," Gerard says with a grin.

I'm sure Remus and Sirius think he's talking about how I claim to be a Dark Lord, but those of us in the know realize just how very serious he's making a point to _Voldemort_. Tom seems to pride himself in his 'evil', while Gerard seems to take it all in stride, as though he's more comfortable with who and what he is and Tom is simply overcompensating and trying too hard. I wouldn't think Gerard were a Dark Lord at all from the way he acts, although I'm not sure how much of that is simply an act. Aside from when he casually starts discussing demon summoning, but he seems calm and cheerful even then. Maybe Tom is just broody, or still bitter over how his plans to kill me and take my power backfired on him spectacularly.

I look around at the others thoughtfully. If I remember right, the arrangement is supposed to be balanced by magical strength, but I haven't the slightest idea who might have stronger or weaker innate powers. Without any obvious way to figure it out, I decide to just guess and go with my gut feelings. I don't think most of them are familiar enough with the ritual that they'd get their feelings hurt or anything if I assumed they were weaker than they are. I wind up putting Tom and Gerard in the first row behind me, Cassie and Hermione in the middle, and Sirius and Remus in the back.

"On this day, we gather here in concord," I intone. "Together we stand, side by side. Together we walk, to face what may come. Together we raise our hands, to reach out for our dreams." I lift my wand to my candle and cast, " _Ignis amicorum_."

The sun shines down from overhead through the skylights in the atrium. Blue flame illuminates my face, and behind me, one by one, the others cast the spell as well, each adding their own unique color and light to the room. I feel a rush as the ritual's energy flows through us, warm and rich and refreshing as a fire on the hearth and cup of hot cocoa on a cold winter's day.

I let out a contented sigh and turn to look back at the others and their rainbow of light. Tom stares down at his green flame as though uncertain of what to make of it, while Gerard simply gives a broad grin over his vivid red flame. Behind them, Cassie holds her candle burning with purple light close to her. Hermione peers intently at her yellow flame, probably trying to take apart how the ritual works. Remus' candle gives off orange light, while Sirius' burns cyan or light blue like his namesake star.

"Cooool," Gerard drawls.

"It's more of a 'warm' than a 'cool'." Sirius quirks a grin.

"The two of you…" Hermione grumbles.

"I like that ritual." Cassie smiles.

Tom says nothing. He seems… haunted. Did my memories of him really affect him that much?

* * *

"You better believe I didn't forget your birthday, Tom!" Sirius exclaims.

Tom leans back, sips his hot coffee, and looks over at him. "Perish the thought. I mean, I definitely forgot yours."

"November third," Sirius quips. "You can give me a late present by telling me what you want for your birthday."

"How about we just go get a drink?" Tom suggests.

"I can get behind that!" Sirius agrees.

"You're not leaving me behind," I say.

"I think you know where I want to go, too," Tom says with a grin.

"Yeah, yeah, your favorite pub," Sirius says. "I don't know what you see in that place, but hey. Everyone's gotta do something they enjoy on their birthday."

"Is this that dingy pub in Knockturn Alley you've mentioned?" Cassie makes a face. "I think I'd rather stay home."

So, three men and two boys Apparate to Diagon Alley, and we head down toward the pub. It's a ramshackle building that has seen better days and seems to be held together primarily by magic. The sign dangles at an angle from one chain, the other broken, so faded and worn that whatever name the pub might have had is long forgotten.

"Welcome back, fellows," says the barkeep. "And who's this? Never thought I'd see Harry Potter in my pub."

"That'll be three firewhiskeys," Tom says as we take a table. "And butterbeers for the boys."

"Coming right up," the barkeep says, bringing over our drinks. "Here you go. One for Mr. Hawke. One for Mr. Black. One for you, one for you," he gives drinks to Remus and Gerard, "and one for everyone's favorite little Dark Lord. Happy New Year."

I laugh aloud at that and take a drink of my butterbeer.

"You've been so caught up in that project of yours," Sirius says. "You should get out more! Relax a bit."

"I should indeed," Tom says. He leans back and looks straight into my eyes and says, "I remember coming here a lot."

"While I was in prison?" Sirius asks. "Must've been rough. It was all that rat's fault."

"It's a little late to get worked up about it and place blame," Tom says. "Wormtail died for his crimes. It's all said and done. Let's not talk about the past. There's a whole new year ahead of us. Who knows what it will bring?" He holds aloft his glass and toasts, "Here's to the future."

"Cheers," Sirius says, and knocks back his drink.

"I'll drink to that," Gerard adds.

Does he really remember coming here, in some previous lifetime? _How_? The implications of that look are clear, but I'm definitely going to need to talk to him about this later, when we're alone. Right now, he's calling for another drink.

"Do you have any plans for the new year?" Remus asks.

"Yes," Tom says. He stares off at nothing for a long moment that makes me wonder if he's going to elaborate, before continuing, "I'm going to get in touch with some contacts and maybe do a bit of traveling. I think I've been approaching things from the wrong angle right from the start. I plan on taking my projects in a new direction."

"Good to hear!" Sirius says.

That evening, as we're heading out of the pub, Remus grips my shoulder, peering intently into the darkness. I glance up at him questioningly and follow his gaze. A man just came out of a shop and is walking down the street away from us. I don't recognize him, especially from the back.

"Let's get home," Remus whispers.

"Who was that?" I ask softly.

"Thought I just saw a ghost," Remus replies quietly. "Not literally, mind you. I believe that was Fenrir Greyback."


	9. Luck

On the last night of Yule holiday before returning to Hogwarts, I take another trip into my Pensieve to run over the memory of Sardill's vision once more. Every time I look at it, I notice details I'd missed before.

As I watch it play out one more time, this time, I realize that the first war he displays takes place on _Earth_. No wonder Tom thought Drakanna was on Earth. I'm not sure what he saw that I missed the first time, in the memories I showed him, but now I can't unsee this.

Sardill called this war the Elkandu Crisis. Pollution and environmental damage has brought the world's life to the breaking point. Nuclear weapons burst in the skies. Magic and technology clash in a devastating apocalypse.

And it's directly in my future.

I try to pick apart the vision to glean what details I can, all the while consoling myself that it's only a vision of a failed future. None of this has happened yet. Prophecies are bullshit. The future isn't set in stone. Notwithstanding that there's no telling if this is even likely to happen in _this_ timeline or not.

And yet, from my perusal of Muggle social studies, the foundations for this war are already in place. Nothing I see here is the least bit implausible or surprising, even if it's horrifying.

I wonder what Falk would be able to make of this, or someone else more familiar with this world. Like… Gerard. I need to talk to him. I bottle up a copy of this segment of the memory, and head out to try to find him. He's in his room, curled up under the covers. I hesitate.

"Well, don't just stand there," Gerard says, turning over to lean on one arm and look over at me. "Either come in and speak up, or hop in bed."

I make a face. "You are _not_ allowed to flirt with people while looking like an eleven-year-old. That's just wrong."

"But it makes people so uncomfortable!" Gerard says.

"You're awful. Don't make me punch you."

Gerard snickers, then slides his feet over the edge of the bed and sits up. "So what's up? This can't be an emergency, or you'd have charged in swearing about how something horrible was going to happen again."

"I wanted you to look at something," I explain.

"Quivering in my socks with curiosity to that vague statement," Gerard says with a grin. "Let's see it."

I lead him off to the lab, expecting Tom to be there and to show it to him as well, but it's empty tonight. "Huh. Guess Tom can sit this one out, then."

"He actually went to sleep?" Gerard says with mock surprise. "Can't be. I'm sure he's just in another room, plotting something."

I pull out the vial and pour it into the Pensieve. "I've isolated the specific sequence of memories I'm particularly interested and concerned about right now."

We jump into the Pensieve and the memory unfolds around us. The memories of Sardill and myself stand watching history play out before them.

"Wait," Gerard says. "That's you? We're watching… your memory of being shown another memory?"

"Right," I say. "I wasn't present for these events, and no way were they from the perspective of a single person, either."

Gerard watches for a few minutes, then rolls his eyes. "Cobbled together for dramatic effect and not to actually convey any useful details, it looks like, too. Showmanship." He clearly can't stay quiet long enough to watch the whole thing without mocking it somehow.

"What can you get out of this, though?"

"I'd think it was a typical prophetic bullshit vision of the end of the world, if you weren't a Time Mage," Gerard says.

"But is it Earth?" I press.

"In my expect opinion to the actual Time Mage, I'd say it's a very similar alternate timeline," Gerard says with a smirk. "Although some of the differences can clearly be accounted for by it being in the future. Agh, look at that. Those guys are stopping to take pictures of the nuclear explosion. I don't recognize the devices they're using but I'm impressed at the level of human stupidity here."

"There's probably an infinite number of very similar timelines," I say.

"Yeah," Gerard says. "If everything seen on television is true, every universe someone has imagined is real."

"Still, while this obviously isn't a given, this _is_ some version of Earth," I say.

Gerard nods. "Yeah, look at that?" He points off to a tower of curved metal. "Eiffel Tower. How many universes have something so fuck-ugly as that thing?" He rolls his eyes. "And it's practically a cliche that every end-of-days scenario has to show major landmarks like that getting fucked up. Are you sure this guy isn't pulling a fast one on you with movie clips?"

"I don't think he'd do that," I say. "Besides, there's people I recognize in these. See that man being hauled away? I know that guy. His name's Sedder. Hmm. This must be _his_ memory."

"Why in hell is he being locked away in a cheap hotel in Paris in the middle of the apocalypse?" Gerard wonders.

I snort softly. "If I ever run into him again, I'll ask."

"Do you think he's likely to be around in this world somewhere?" Gerard asks.

"I don't know," I say. "I won't rule out the possibility."

* * *

Back at Hogwarts for the next term, I consider just what I'm going to say to Falk. I definitely want the information, but I have no idea how to approach him on the matter. Oh well, this can't possibly be worse than telling him about the failed future. That one went swimmingly, after all.

"Today I'm going to touch on the subject of wraiths," Falk tells the class. "Ghosts. Usually they're not dangerous. There's a number of harmless ones hanging around this school, after all. There's a few things you need to be aware of, though, and some of them _are_ malicious."

He carries on his lecture, Hermione fiercely taking notes next to me as always. After class is over and the other students file out of the room, I approach Falk. Taking one look at my face, he doesn't even say anything before gesturing to me to follow him into his office.

"What's up, kid?" he asks once we're inside with the door closed.

"Just wanted to ask you a few questions," I say.

"Questions you didn't want to ask in front of the rest of the class," Falk adds.

I nod. "I'm looking for information about the Ethereal Plane."

"Hoo boy," Falk says, sinking into his chair. "I'm guessing this is about Jez'kai?"

"Let's go with that," I reply.

"Werewolves call it the Umbra," Falk says. "There's several layers, and it's full of realms, as many realms as humanity can imagine. It wouldn't surprise me if Jez'kai spent time hiding in an Ethereal realm."

"How might one go about finding a specific realm?" I ask.

"For a mage? You could try to find some sort of spell or ritual, or design one if you're able to. Not necessarily an easy prospect. Some mages or groups of mages specialize more in that sort of thing. A werewolf might be able to help, if you're on good terms with one," Falk suggests.

I grin. "Yeah, got one living in my house. Didn't think to ask him, though."

"You wouldn't expect them to be more attuned to the Ethereal than a mage, would you," Falk says with a smirk. "Your fallback plan for finding this particular realm would be to get a ghost to help. Depending on what or where this realm is in the Ethereal, it might be necessary, but one a werewolf can get to, a werewolf's guidance should be enough." He pauses thoughtfully. "Unless Jez'kai had a wraith helping him."

I lick my lips and wonder just what exactly to tell him. No, not backing out now. And the thought that Drakanna might be closer to Earth than Torn Elkandu is probably a sound one. I _know_ Torn Elkandu is connected to Lezaria, which is definitely not Earth by any stretch of alternate universes. There's no telling where Drakanna might actually be, but it's worth a shot.

"I know what this realm looks like, and what at least one group in history called it," I tell Falk. "Well. Future history."

"Go on."

"They called it Drakanna," I explain. "It was home to a group called the Drakandu, who later called themselves Tempest. The… it looked like an ordinary city, on the surface. Well, not exactly, the buildings weren't made of any earthly material. But the _sky_ — Black and red, flashing lightning, constant storms."

Falk groans. "Fuck."

I raise an eyebrow. "You know the place?"

Falk shakes his head. "Not this particular place, no. But I know where it must be located. The name itself is a big clue. It's got to be in the fucking Tempest." He rubs his face, and goes on. "There's a massive storm, deep in the Umbra—Ethereal. Dangerous to navigate, but not impossible."

"That might narrow my prospects, then," I say.

"Maybe not," Falk says. "You said it was used as a headquarters for a group? That means there's almost certainly a gateway of some sort directly from this world, or another more easily accessible realm."

"That might not be all that helpful," I point out. "The gateway from this side might well be heavily-guarded or well-hidden."

"True," Falk allows. "Still. You think Jez'kai might be there? That he's been involved with these Drakandu?"

I make a face. "No. I think he must not be allowed to find it at all costs. And if the Drakandu exist in this timeframe, they'll lead him straight to it."

* * *

"To the best of my measurement, Harry, you don't have any worse luck than the rest of us," Hermione says, tapping her notebook with a pen. "You've gotten a favorable draw slightly more frequently than not, but well within the degree of error."

"Well, that's… kind of a relief?" I say. "But what if it doesn't take into account such trivial things as cards?"

"Then I really can't think of any way to test that," Hermione says. "It's difficult to prove or disprove everyone horribly dying in ways unconnected to you."

"Yeah, true," I say. "Well, thanks for trying, anyway. You're probably right."

"Don't worry about it," Hermione says. "Cassie and I have come up with plenty of other things to test with you, too! Now we can move on to other things."

I groan. "Do I really want to know?"

"I'll get back to you once I've figured out a set of tests." Hermione heads off, leaving me alone at my desk.

Gerard passes back the latest group of rune flashcards we were using. "So, I'm wondering. _Is_ there some tangible reason why you think you've had bad luck?"

"Dying constantly and having otherwise horrible things happen around me was a good indication," I say dryly.

"How often have you died lately?" Gerard asks. "Not all that often, since I hooked up with you, unintentionally at least."

I frown thoughtfully. "You… have a point. I would have expected to be dying more."

"So _have_ you been dying less?" Gerard says.

"This loop," I say, thinking back hard on it. "This latest loop, when I went back to summer of '91. I think I actually noticed that things I expected to kill me at least a few times failed to do so. I've still died, of course, but generally from things I knew were dangerous, and not random deaths from stupid things. Aside from that time my face got chewed off by a book, at least…"

"Do you know when this might have changed or what might have triggered a change?" Gerard presses, charitably making no comment about that last.

I put my face in my palm. "Yes. Absolutely yes. Just before this loop, pretty much absolutely everything changed. I got my mind in order and made myself stop forgetting things. I set the universe right so that the future wouldn't be destroyed and me along with it. Yeah, yeah, I know. Me saving the universe. It would have led to a very real, permanent death for me."

"Hmm," Gerard hmms.

"Hmm?" I raise an eyebrow.

"That was definitely a lot going on," Gerard says. "Let's say you definitely had terrible luck before then. Luck is a real thing, by the way. Just so you know."

"Yes, I figured," I say.

"And you probably don't remember how long you had bad luck," Gerard goes on, and I nod in confirmation. "It could have been a curse. Some curses, particularly powerful ones, attach to the soul and not the body, so your time-hopping wouldn't have been enough to shake it, in and of itself. And since it appears to be gone now, either whatever you did there dispelled it, or its creator removed it."

_Try again, Stormseeker._

"Oh fuck," I mutter. "By all the motherfucking _gods_."

"Usually they just fuck their sisters," Gerard says lightly.

" _He_ did it," I announce, ignoring him. "I can't believe it. Not only did he force me into going and developing my powers, but he ensured that I'd be getting into bad situations requiring me to use them? And all in the name of preventing that future from coming to pass…"

"Yep, that sounds more than plausible." Gerard nods. "Who was this, anyway?"

"Sardill," I say. "The one who showed me those memories. The Catalyst, they call him. Closest thing to a deity without actually calling himself that. Known to have cursed more than one entire race. More than capable of doing it, and more than motivated as well. Why did I not realize it before?" I sigh. "Because I didn't realize luck was a real thing. Because I thought it was just coincidence, misperception, or my own stupidity. That it turns out that it _wasn't_ entirely my own stupidity is a little heartening, honestly."

"Huh," Gerard says. "Not someone I've heard of, by that name at any rate. I would have thought someone of that sort of power level would be more known."

"He was well-known in _that_ universe, at least," I say. "They say he's something like ten thousand years old or something ridiculous like that." I make a face. "And, true. He's gone by many names throughout history. Could have taken over the world, but instead he went to war with himself. You can imagine people were pretty pissed off when they finally realized that."

"I still think he must have existed in this universe," Gerard says. "That's _way_ too prominent a figure not to have had a counterpart."

"I'm not entirely convinced," I say. "Is it necessary? Is it unheard of that someone doesn't have a counterpart, or appear in the past of another universe?"

"Just saying, he may well have also been a prominent figure in the history of this world as well. If what you say is true, of his names and disguises and false identities, he could have been absolutely anyone. And I'm not entirely convinced the universe you speak of was an entirely different universe," Gerard muses. "Whatever that even _means_. It gets a little wuzzy, and things get weird with the Ethereal. I'm not going to pretend to know everything about the cosmos, though. But if there's humans, speaking recognizable English, can it really be completely unconnected?"

"I'll concede the point," I say.

"Was this nuclear war you showed me the scenario you prevented?" Gerard asks.

I shake my head. "No. They recovered from that, and many other worse situations. So it still might wind up happening."

"Wonderful," Gerard says. "I'd hate to miss out on an apocalypse."

"Tell me more about curses," I say, pointedly changing the subject. "There couldn't be a specific _spell_ to do what he did, could there? And they weren't big on incantations, over there."

"You better believe there are jinxes, hexes, and curses aplenty that will give someone varying degrees of bad luck," Gerard says. "Wizards light and dark have been trying to foil one another from time immemorial."

"Right, stupid question," I say. "But permanently, on that sort of scale? There were times I don't think I went a day without dying."

"I don't see why a sufficiently powerful curse couldn't do that," Gerard says. "There've even been curses on entire bloodlines."

"It's definitely a relief to know that, here and now, I'm no longer cursed, and no longer likely to bring doom upon everything around me simply by existing," I say. "Instead, I can take heart in knowing that either I directly or indirectly caused said doom, or it was completely unrelated to me."

Gerard snickers. "Sometimes it's the little things."

"Do you have any way of detecting curses like that?" I ask. "Would you have been able to notice or dispel a curse of that magnitude, or to what level do you expect you'd be able to dispel?"

"Not that level of curse," Gerard says. "Not from someone so powerful or skilled. Beyond that, it would depend greatly on the curse and the caster. They're not always easy to detect, either. But if you've fulfilled Sardill's expectations of you, and you think the curse is gone now, I doubt he would have left anything else unfortunate on you."

"But if there _are_ others in this universe capable of doing something like that…" I consider dreadfully.

"Oh, there are," Gerard says with a dark smirk. "There most definitely are."

* * *

When we return home for Imbolc, we're greeted by a new house-elf, a female one.

"Welcome home!" the house-elf says brightly. "Mipsy is happy to meet you!"

"Nice to meet you too, Mipsy," I say, and introduce myself, Gerard, Cassie, and Hermione to her.

"I haven't seen you before," Hermione says. "How long have you been here?"

"Mipsy has only been here a week," the house-elf replies. "Dobby says the wizards in the house are friendly to elves and like us not to keep quiet, so Mipsy comes to say hi!"

"Who did you work for before?" I ask.

"Mipsy belongs to the Lestrange family. But they are all in prison and there are no heirs and they left Mipsy to keep the house by herself these past years. It has been very quiet and Mipsy has heard no word of her family."

"The Lestranges?" Cassie wonders. "So how'd you wind up here?"

"Master Hawke came to the house a week ago," Mipsy explains. "Master Hawke told Mipsy what happened to her family. After he was done looking around, he brought me back here."

I raise an eyebrow. "What was he doing at the Lestrange Estate?"

"Mipsy doesn't know," the house-elf goes on. "Master Hawke looked around, into a few of the bedrooms, into a storeroom, but he didn't take anything, then down a hallway he and spent a long time just staring into an empty closet."

Well, that's definitely odd.

Sirius puts in, "I say, it's good to have another house-elf around. Dobby always times his days off to when I really want coffee."

"You could just learn to make your own coffee," Remus points out.

"Perish the thought!" Sirius exclaims.

I excuse myself to go locate Tom. Although he's in the lab again, he doesn't appear to be actually doing anything at the moment but waiting for me, absently twirling a wand that I don't remember where he picked up.

"You remember?" I wonder. "How?"

"Remember what I mentioned before as a possibility, of using memory packets to convey information even in the absence of an actual soul bond?" Tom explains. "As it turns out, my other self had the same idea. Unsurprisingly, of course, since he was actually me."

"So you were able to reclaim that?" I ask.

"Partially," Tom says, then snorts. "I was hoist by my own petard, in a way. In my foolish attack on you, I damaged the memory packet attached to you. If I hadn't done that, they would have been imparted to me immediately upon re-establishing our bond. As it is, they're damaged and incomplete, yes, but now that I realized what happened, I've been able to piece together what I could. There were some things that my other self found very important to convey and left a good deal of redundancy in them to ensure that they'd transfer intact."

"Like what?" I press.

"That…" Tom hesitates. "That you are to be protected at all costs. And… yes, that I cared about you a great deal."

"I'm glad to hear that," I say quietly.

"I'd still like to _find_ this other self somehow, of course," Tom says. "Even without the damage, it's likely that there's only so much that could have been discreetly attached without being detected, while still ensuring enough redundancy that enough of it would come through. And, of course, I am certain that you also wish to retrace your steps and regain your lost memories."

"In part, yes," I say. "But in another part, I just want to live and make new memories. After going through what memories we've been piecing together so many times, I'm kind of getting tired of living in the past and forgetting about the present and future."

"Agreed," Tom says heartily. "They sat in the back of my head, tickling at my consciousness without fully coming forth. That was possibly more annoying than simply not remembering at all."

I'm quiet for several moments before finally asking, "Do you know why I lost my memories?"

Tom sighs, leans back against the wall and looks to the ceiling. "Yes. It was my doing."

" _You_?"

Tom stays silent, not even saying a word to justify it or defend himself.

"Why?" I finally ask.

"You couldn't handle it," Tom replies. "You were driving yourself mad, drowning your sorrows in drugs and alcohol. You wallowed in remorse over things that happened in other timelines. Some part of you _wanted_ to forget, even as you were terrified of the prospect."

"But," I say softly. "Since I forgot, I was never able to work through it and learn to deal with it."

"You had years, decades to do so, but you kept falling back into the same patterns again," Tom says, shaking his head. "I know why I did it. I know why I placed that curse upon you. I put specific conditions in for it to be dispelled, and it seems that you've met those conditions. I cannot tell you whether it was the best way to handle it or not."

"Can I trust you _now_?" I narrow my eyes at him. "Can I trust _this_ you?"

"I'm still the same person as my other self," Tom says. "Only my experiences were different. Sometimes, it seems, that changes everything."

"You did things without my consent because you thought they would be for my own good," I say, pinning him with a hard glare. "I want to make certain that this _never_ happens again."

"I cannot—"

I shake a finger at him. "You will _not_ fuck with my mind without my consent _ever again_."

"Understood," Tom says hastily, holding up his hands.

"I think I've had enough of curses, too," I grumble. "At least on _me_. Let somebody else get cursed for a change. What's done is done, I suppose."

Tom looks at me thoughtfully and asks, "Have you been doing better?"

"I have no intention of wasting my life moping or getting wasted," I say pointedly. "And if I start doing so again, feel free to smack me, not curse me or make me forget. I'd rather you randomly commit mass murder in front of me just to get my attention than that. _Nothing_ else you did helped?"

"Not to my knowledge," Tom says. "I do not remember all that I tried, only my last note to myself making it clear what I did and why."

I shake my head. "Let me take responsibility for myself, then. There is no temptation. There is only choice. And ultimately, this was only _my_ responsibility."

"You are not alone… Lexen," Tom says.

I lower my head. "Damnit, how can you be so infuriating and at the same time…"

"I know," Tom murmurs. "I know what you mean. Look at me! I want to hate you. I should _hate_ you."

"Why?" I ask. "I resurrected you."

Tom sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "I don't know." He makes a face. "I also wish you didn't look like a twelve-year-old."

"Were we always caught in a tight circle of love-hate, sending me on a roller-coaster of emotions?" I muse.

"It seems likely," Tom says. "Perhaps it would be best to _not_ simply continue that. We have another chance, after all."

"We have all the chances in the multiverse," I point out.

Tom looks over to me. "So. What now?"

"You're asking me?" I reply.

"Yes," Tom says. "If you say there is only choice, then I will _choose_ not to hate you and set myself in opposition to you. You are correct. You resurrected me and aided me without question or reservation. If… if I can trust anyone in this world or any other, I believe I can trust _you_ to have my interests and well-being at heart."

"Thank you," I say quietly.

"So, I will support you in whatever you choose to do," Tom goes on. "You heavily implied to the Malfoys that you contained a piece of me that, while true, did not quite have the expectations they sought. I confirmed that to them and told them that I would not fight you but support you, and that it would be unreasonable to seek conflict with an aspect of myself. You can have the spotlight. You can be the Dark Lord. You have already declared yourself such. It would be best for me to remain merely Tom Hawke and not draw undue attention to myself."

I nod. "That's probably a good idea, yeah. But what are we going to do about 'Voldemort'? Dumbledore seems certain that he—you—aren't truly dead and gone, and I'm sure he's not the only one."

"I distrust memory modification on anyone who is skilled at the mental magics," Tom says. "I realized that even if I caught Dumbledore in a position to attempt to Obliviate him, I may not be able to alter his memories sufficiently to do the job acceptably. The same goes for Snape."

"So, shall we murder Dumbledore, or what?" I suggest. "That would simplify things, wouldn't it?"

Tom throws back his head and laughs. "This is what you immediately think of? You see? You talk about peaceful takeover, but think of destroying anyone who gets in your way."

"Well, I could just destroy him with _words_ again," I say. "That would probably work, too. And probably better, since it would avoid the undue attention and upset that murder would cause."

"You treat diplomacy as a battlefield," Tom comments.

"Yep," I say. "Every phrase is a blade designed to cut. Every word is an arrow intended to pierce."

Tom grins widely. "Let's leave Dumbledore be for now. It's a long-term consideration, regardless. I don't believe he will do anything immediately, particularly with Fenrir Greyback causing problems of late."

I nod. "Good idea."

"There is a ritual I wish to perform for Imbolc," Tom says. "Something which I would have doubted as reasonable had my other self not impressed upon me the need for it. I would not have even thought of it, but I will trust my other self." He snorts softly. "He even sent along instructions. I am not even certain where he found them."

"What is it?" I ask.

"The Ritual of Purification," Tom replies.

"Well, that certainly sounds… light," I say.

"It will undo many of the lingering effects of the dark rituals I performed upon myself," Tom says. "We'll need a circle of seven."

I nod. "We have that. I'll let the others know."

"I'll make preparations, then."

* * *

"Are you serious about this?" Gerard says once he'd dragged me into the library. The others were happy enough at going along with the Ritual of Purification, but Gerard looked alarmed when I mentioned it.

"Yeah," I say. "Why?"

Gerard puts his face in his hand. "Not something I would have expected of you and Tom."

"I know," I say. "I didn't expect it of him, either."

"This won't be easy on either of you, and probably not Cassie, either," Gerard says. "And if I were in the circle, I'd probably get caught up in it too. This isn't the sort of thing any demon or Dark Lord could get dragged into and remain unchanged."

"Well, that's alright on my account," I say. "Fuck knows I'll _never_ be able to avoid the Dark Side no matter how much purification I throw around. I'd decided a while back to find the balance of the Force. I realized I could be stronger if I were able to utilize both sides of the Force."

Gerard works up his face into a variety of expressions. "You really should have mentioned this to me sooner."

"I didn't know it myself until ten minutes ago," I say.

"Right, not your fault," Gerard grumbles. "I'm surprised that a Sith Lord would turn away from the Dark Side, though."

"Not entirely," I say with a shrug. "It was a long and complicated thing where I wound up leading myself to my own doom through obsession with revenge."

"And Tom?" Gerard says. "Why would he do this? I'm pretty sure he's a widderslainte."

"… a what?"

"Ugh, how to explain," Gerard says. "Dark wizards often perform rituals that affect the soul. That effectively turns them 'dark', and changes the way we do magic. Much like the vaunted 'falling to the Dark Side', but while the Jedi and Sith work by pure will and emotion, mages in this universe have to go through spells and rituals."

"I think I'm following you so far," I say.

"When we die, we get reborn," Gerard goes on. "Fucking Albus and his 'next great adventure'. Another adventure in another life, generally not remembering a damned thing about who we were before. Not much consolation. Especially since anything we do to our souls tends to carry over to the next life. A widderslainte is someone who 'fell to the Dark Side' in a previous life. They start off with a black mark on their soul right from the start."

"I see," I say.

"So, now he's seeking redemption?" Gerard asks.

"Apparently he sent himself a message attached to my soul," I explain. "That effectively told him to do this."

"Okay, that makes a little more sense," Gerard says. "I have no idea what might have happened in these other lives in the intervening years or even centuries. Presumably something would have eventually led him to that conclusion."

"And if you can't trust yourself, who can you trust…" I murmur.

Gerard nods. "Trusting his own message to himself is reasonable. Maybe you're prepared for this, what with whatever you went through as a Sith Lord. Maybe he is, after reviewing his own messages. But I'm not. Not at all. I can't do this. I can't be a part of this circle."

"If he did this in the other timeline, wouldn't you have also?" I ask.

"I don't know," Gerard says, leaning over a table. "I don't want to do this."

"Alright," I say. "I can't force you into it. I'll find another seventh. I can call Ron over to fill in."

Gerard stares intently at the wood. "I half expected you'd try to drag me in anyway."

"You know that's not how I roll," I say.

"Yeah," Gerard says. "It's one thing to claim to support freedom. It's another to actually do it."

"Freedom for all beings," I say firmly.

Gerard nods. "You're insane, you know."

I laugh softly. "So people tell me from time to time."

He straightens and looks over to me. "Do you _want_ me to do this?"

I pause. "I would like it if you did."

Gerard stares at me silently for a long moment before musing, "Maybe life would have been better had I not set myself in opposition to Albus. That went bad in every conceivable way. I… regret how things turned out. But I won't have another chance with him, not in this life. But you… damnit."

"Gellert?" I whisper.

"I'll do it," Gerard says aloud. "I'll do it for _you_. Alright? And don't give me any talk about how I should do it for myself or any of that rot. I wouldn't do it for myself. I wouldn't have even _considered_ it for myself. Fuck, I just know this is going to _suck_ , but I'll do it."

* * *

Three circles of runes. Seven silver bowls filled with water. Twenty-one white flowers. Seven white candles. The seven of us take our positions around the circle.

"This is quite the setup you've got here," Sirius says.

"I had some assistance," Tom says. "Cassie and Hermione and I each drew one of the circles of runes."

"Really?" Sirius beams. "That's my girl."

"And Hermione will be performing the ritual," Tom adds.

"Hermione?" I ask in puzzlement.

"She was the only one here that seemed sufficiently Light as well as talented enough to pull it off," Tom says.

"Maybe this will help to purge any remaining Dark on the Black bloodline, too," Sirius comments.

"Going around the circle clockwise, or 'diasil' if we're going to use that terminology," Tom explains, "Each of us must call out the virtue that we value most. I will warn you that this may be painful to some of us. Keep your virtue firmly in mind and do not forget what you are doing or why you are here." He turns to Hermione and nods. "It is almost noon. Let us begin."

Hermione takes a deep breath, seeming a little nervous about this. She raises her hands and chants in an ancient tongue whose name I can't bring to mind at the moment. Her words sound coached and flat, but the accent is flawless, perfectly parroted. It's good enough. Light builds around us, and not just from the sun shining directly through the skylight overhead.

When her chant is done, she announces in English, "I call upon Wisdom."

"I call upon Hope," I say.

Tom grates out, "I call on Love!"

Gerard, clearly in great pain, says, "I call on Freedom!"

"I call on Compassion," Cassie says.

Sirius hesitates before saying, "I call on Justice."

"I call on Loyalty," Remus says.

The light slams into us like a Death Star. Distantly I hear Tom and Gerard trying not to scream and failing at it. I never thought the Light Side of the Force could be so painful. But I don't fight it. I let it wash around me, holding dearly to Hope. The light scorches at the soul with blazing heat. Once my vision clears, I look up and see only Hermione is still standing upright, although Remus seems to not have been really affected either.

Gerard, curled up in a fetal position, groans, "By all that is holy…"

"Did something go wrong?" Remus wonders.

"I don't think so," I say.

Hermione frowns. "I did everything like Tom said to…"

Tom shakes his head, pushing himself to his feet. "No. Everything went properly, I believe."

"Ugh," Sirius mutters, rubbing his head. "I feel like I have a hangover."

"I'm alright," Cassie says.

"Can I just lay here for a while?" Gerard mumbles.

"Would pancakes help?" I suggest.

Gerard pauses, consideringly. "You know what, that sounds really fucking good about now."


	10. Specters

"That was quite the ritual," Remus comments over a hot cup of tea.

"Yeah," Sirius agrees, settling down in front of the fire with a mug of coffee. "I'm still buzzing from it. I mean, sure, it hurt for a moment, but now I kind of feel like it's the first time I've really been _alive_. It's like all that Black shit that I didn't even know was hanging over me is just _gone_."

"So, should we call you Mr. White now?" Remus quirks a grin.

"Hah!" Sirius says. "Bet that'd make my old mum scream bloody murder."

"As much as she'd scream if the two of you ever got married?" Tom says, grinning even wider.

Sirius looks a little flustered for a moment before replying, "Well, if it ever became legal…"

Remus gently ribs Sirius. "I think he'd fail at the whole 'monogamy' thing. How many men and women have you slept with since getting out of prison?"

"Lost count," Sirius admits.

I put my face in my palm, laughing. "Are we going to be finding more of your illegitimate children some years down the line?"

"Hey, I've been more careful with the contraceptive spells this time," Sirius says.

Tom snorts softly. "I swear James must have been the only straight man I knew, myself included."

"Well, he _did_ experiment once with the other side but decided it wasn't for him," Sirius grouses.

"You didn't," Tom says flatly.

Sirius clears his throat.

"Do I _really_ need to hear about my dad's sex life?" I groan. "Seeing as I exist, I assume he must have had sex with my mother at some point. Beyond that, do I _really_ need to know?"

"Sorry," Sirius says unrepentantly, then turns back to Tom. "What about you, Tom? Did you ever manage to lose your virginity?"

Tom manages to look almost embarrassed. "Well, I'm not really interested in women and I could never quite find the right man…"

"What, don't tell me you never even fooled around," Sirius says.

"Nope, never," Tom admits.

"You know, we can remedy that," Sirius says, waggling his eyebrows.

Tom rolls his eyes. "Sirius, are you trying to seduce me?"

"Just fooling around," Sirius says with a grin.

"You know, if you two are going to 'fool around', can you do it somewhere else?" I tell them.

Tom snorts softly. "In the interests in protecting the ears of innocent children, let us reconvene elsewhere."

"Yeah!" Sirius says, practically dragging him off and leaving me alone with Remus.

Once they're gone, Remus snickers. "Sirius is _such_ a dog."

"Pun intended?" I say with a smirk.

Remus chuckles. "You should probably get to bed with the other kids."

"I'm not really tired," I say. "I wanted to talk to you about something, too."

"Oh? What, do you like the boys, too?"

I grate my teeth and roll my eyes. "Yes, but that's _not_ what I wanted to talk about."

"Well, it's good that you can come out and say it," Remus says.

"I don't see what the big deal is," I say with a shrug, then move on before I can get dragged into _another_ discussion about sex. "Falk was telling me about the Umbra."

"I've heard some interesting things about your Defense professor," Remus says, frowning. "On top of what I've seen myself."

I smirk. "The seventh years say he's the most competent teacher they've ever had. He actually seems to know what he's talking about. So I'd imagine that what he told me about the Ethereal Plane, what you werewolves call the Umbra, is probably accurate. He did suggest talking to a werewolf about it, though."

"Well, you're talking to a werewolf," Remus says with a grin. "What do you want to know?"

"How would one go about finding a specific Umbral realm?" I ask. "If you don't have access to anyone who can just show you the way."

Remus purses his lips. "You have to realize, travel in the Umbra isn't like how it is in the physical world. You can't just walk far enough in one direction and find another place. It's a world of spirit and thought as much as the physical world is of the body."

"So you're saying that you travel through the Umbra by _thinking_?" I raise an eyebrow.

"That's how a wizard would do it, broadly speaking, yes," Remus explains. "While a werewolf would use their spirit senses, and the fae would dream their way through it."

"Okay, well…" I rub my head. "You don't mean that literally, right? You mean thinking as in using magic to do it. Spells and rituals and stuff."

"Right," Remus says.

"Falk believes what I'm looking for is a pocket realm within the Tempest," I say.

Remus makes a face. "That's not a part of the Umbra werewolves usually go. I'm sure you could devise some sort of ritual if need be, but it would be _very dangerous_ and I wouldn't suggest even trying it unless you were absolutely certain it would work. If you're serious about exploring the Umbra, might I suggest trying some more friendly places to start off with?"

"Yeah, good idea," I say. "This is something of a long-term project, I guess. What do you think Jez'kai's chances of finding this place before me are?"

"Are you certain that he's looking for it?" Remus asks.

"No," I say. "But if he finds out about it, it'll be disastrous."

"Then perhaps it would be best if you kept your investigation quiet as long as possible," Remus says. "What is it that you're trying to find?"

"A Nexus," I say. "A connection point between worlds. And whoever secures that location first is going to have access to all of the multiverse."

Remus gives a low whistle. "I take it you discovered the existence of this place through you and Tom's studies into alternate universes? If that's accurate… you're right, you don't want him to find that."

"I haven't mentioned it to anyone but Falk and those in this house," I say. "Gerard's been helping too."

"He's a clever boy," Remus says. "Do you know why he reacted so badly to the Ritual of Purification?"

I frown. "I've heard some people are sort of born wrong. Their soul is already messed up from something they did in another life."

I don't think that's what he did. I think he did that to himself _intentionally_. But wasn't it something of another life before I rejuvenated him? Close enough, I suppose.

"This is true," Remus says with a nod. "He seems normal enough, but yes, now that I think about it, sometimes something seems just a little off. Hopefully this will give him a chance at a clean slate."

* * *

As the Hogwarts Express pulls in to the Hogsmeade station, returning to school after the Imbolc holiday, a dreadful cold washes over me. It burrows into my mind and soul, bringing up horrible thoughts and memories. The lingering buzz from the Ritual of Purification is snuffed out like a candle.

_My friends are dying, screaming in pain. Their lifeblood drains out onto the floor. Their bodies are pierced and cut with dozens of wounds. The enemy just laughs aloud as he turns his attention to me._

_A friend betrayed me. Now, he stands against me, green lightsaber in hand. Was he truly the traitor, or did I betray him first by turning Sith? It doesn't matter. Now we must fight. Now one of us must die._

_I have seen the face of evil…_

I fall to the ground, screaming and clutching my head.

Hands touch me. I struggle. I try to fight them off. Enemies. They must be enemies, trying to capture me. I will _not_ surrender. Not this time, not ever. I will not be a prisoner or a slave. I call upon the Dark Side. I draw the Force about me. Lightning crackles around my body. My enemies back away, their feet shuffling in surprise. They didn't expect me to still be able to fight back in this state.

"Harry!" calls a girl's voice. "It's Dementors! Call your Patronus!"

I don't understand what I'm hearing. My head is swimming and dark thoughts push out everything. My eyes snap open and I stand, and march in a daze out of the train. Shadows cling to the corners of my eyes.

I don't understand where I'm going. I step off the train and into the village. Specters surround me, wispy black robes swirling around them in a wind I can only feel with my Force senses. Voices, distorted in my ears. Children are screaming.

I don't understand what I'm seeing. What are these beings? Who attacked me? It clearly wasn't these specters. They're outside, and regardless, I would have known if they'd touched me with their bony fingers.

As my thoughts clear a little, I realize that they're what's causing the cold and darkness. And the children are in danger.

"You will not have them," I tell the specters. "What are you doing here?"

With a raspy voice like a chill wind blowing through dead trees, one of them utters, "Feed…"

"They are not your food," I reply. "These people are not for you."

Again the eerie voice, stronger and clearer now. "We were promised food."

"Who promised you food?" I ask.

"Mortals," the specter whispers. "Their enforcers. Their leaders. Their guardians."

"The Aurors?" I ask. "The Minister of Magic?"

"Yes," it replies. "They give us their castoffs, into Azkaban. But today they've brought us to roam free to feed. They promised us food."

"There's no food for you here," I say.

"Why are you protecting these mortals?" the dark creature asks. "You are not one of them."

They recognize that I'm immortal? How strange. "They're under my protection nonetheless," I tell it. "You should be hunting the Black Spiral Dancers."

"The werewolves?" the creature replies. "Oh yes, they would make for a delightful feast. Shapeshifters are particularly delicious. Yes, we will go and find them. That would be far more worth our while than some simpering weak mortals."

The specters withdraw. The chill leaves the air, and the darkness fades.

"Were you _talking_ to those Dementors?" Draco wonders in a quavering voice, coming up beside me.

"Yes," I reply.

"Why didn't you cast your Patronus?" Cassie asks.

"It really didn't occur to me," I say. "And I don't think I could have managed it in that mental state."

Gerard hands out chocolate to each of us.

"Thanks, but why are you carrying so much chocolate around?" Cassie wonders, nibbling on a piece.

"Why not?" Gerard replies. "Also, I bought a bunch from the trolley."

"That's bad for your teeth," Hermione says with forced calm.

"Eat some," Cassie insists. "It's a cure for the effects of a Dementor's aura."

"Oh," Hermione says, reluctantly taking a piece.

"Harry, your eyes are yellow," Gerard points out. "You going all Sith Lord on us here?"

"Not intentionally, but _damn_ were they dripping with the Dark Side," I say, staring at the candy in my hand.

"Harry, eat your damn chocolate," Rispy mutters, though I'm not sure when he got here.

"How could you understand them?" Hermione wonders. "All I heard was— I don't even know."

"I speak every language, I guess," I say with a helpless shrug.

"Not really unheard of," Brax puts in. "The Aurors have to communicate with them somehow."

"They told me the _Aurors_ brought them here and promised them food," I growl. "Let's get the fuck inside before I murder someone."

I don't want to spend one more minute in Hogsmeade, not even to make sure everyone is alright. I stride across the grounds and toward the castle, but the walk does nothing to soothe my nerves or calm me down. Upon seeing my expression, other students give me a wide berth as if I were a Dementor myself.

In the Hogwarts Great Hall, a feast has been laid out, waiting for students returning from holiday. The students who stayed at Hogwarts are already there eating, but they stop to look up worriedly as the doors open and admit ever more grim looking people. Around me, the students murmur and pass along what happened at Hogsmeade like wildfire. Their voices barely register in my mind. My attention is drawn to the high table, where I meet Dumbledore's eyes. The Force brushes against my mind. Dumbledore's trying to probe me again. I expected as much. I respond with pure, cold fury shoved along the link so hard he flinches and immediately breaks off contact.

I march up to Dumbledore and demand, "Did you know about this?"

"No," Dumbledore says. "I do not even know what you mean."

That seems sincere enough. He's not generally one to lie outright like that.

"The Ministry put Dementors in Hogsmeade," I say.

"They did _what_ now?" Dumbledore's eyes widen in surprise. "Oh dear." He climbs to his feet. "I will go attempt to drive them off and convince any Aurors that are with them that this is not the time or place for this."

"I think they've already left," I say, pursing my lips. "The Aurors, on the other hand… Yes, by all means, see what they have to justify this."

"I'll deal with this," Dumbledore says. "Calm down."

As he glides out of the Great Hall, I go over and take a seat with my friend sat the Slytherin table. Half the people at the table don't seem at all interested in their food, though. The ones who were at Hogsmeade stare at their plates. I don't think Gerard had enough chocolate for all of them. Ginny Weasley is crying as Cassie tries to comfort her.

"House-elves," I say quietly, looking down. "These children have been through darkness and despair today. Please bring them chocolate to soothe them."

Upon the plates of the children looking most forlorn, chocolate pops into existence. They brighten a little as they start to nibble on their treats. I don't think anything's going to soothe _me_ , though. I take a bite of chocolate, but it tastes like mud in my mouth, doing nothing to dispel the storm of hatred roiling around me.

"Everyone stay calm," Gemma Farley valiantly attempts to be a good prefect. "You're safe in here. Let's just get some food in us and get back to the Slytherin dungeon."

"Is there a way to defend against those things?" Hermione asks, glancing nervously toward the school entrance.

"The Patronus Charm," Gemma replies. "Most wizards can't cast it, though."

"Why not?" Hermione wonders.

"Most wizards are shitty wizards," Gerard puts in helpfully.

"Is that so?" Hermione says. "I'd like to see _you_ cast it, then."

"Never tried," Gerard says. "But just for you, I'll give it a shot. How's the spell go, Gemma?"

Gemma sighs. "You're a first year. Don't be disappointed if you can't manage it on your first try. But it's harmless enough. You have to bring to mind a happy thought or memory as you cast it, the stronger the better. Allow me to demonstrate." She pulls out her wand and waves it. " _Expecto Patronum_." A faint, glowing mist emerges from the wand. "Now, if I were able to cast a corporeal Patronus, that would have summoned a sort of spirit animal to defend me."

Those at the table in earshot of her are paying close attention to what she's saying and the demonstration, and a few of them take out their own wands to try out the spell themselves. Hermione, never one to pass up an opportunity to learn a spell, tries it a few times herself, without even a flicker.

Gerard smiles beneficently. "Alright, let's see here." He stands up and raises his wand dramatically. " _Expecto Patronum!"_

Spectacularly, nothing happens.

"I'm still a shitty wizard," Gerard says without missing a beat, sitting down again.

I don't see the need to mention that _I_ can cast that spell. I don't even remember who knows about it in this timeline. Regardless, it's irrelevant seeing as there's no way I could manage it at the moment anyway. Happy thoughts and memories are the furthest thing from my mind.

The doors to the outside open, and briefly framed by the light of the dying sun, Dumbledore re-enters the Great Hall. Following along with him are an older man wearing a long, pin-striped coat, and three wizards wearing brown longcoats, wands at the ready.

"Aurors?" Draco whispers. "And the Minister of Magic? What are they doing here?"

"They'd better answer for this," I mutter.

Dumbledore announces, "My apologies for the scare, students. It seems Fenrir Greyback was sighted in Hogsmeade yesterday."

I stand up. "How does that excuse this?"

"Excuse me?" says Fudge.

I stalk up toward them. "How does that excuse bringing those monsters amongst innocent people? Against _children_?"

"We didn't know the children would be there," says one of the Aurors.

"I'll assume good faith on your part," I say. "But I still question why you couldn't have done this yourselves."

"Now see here, young men—" Fudge begins.

"You think yourself a greater Dark Lord than me?" I demand.

"I am no Dark Lord!" Fudge retorts indignantly.

"Only a Dark Lord would seek to use such creatures as Dementors as their enforcers," I reply. "Cornelius Fudge! I hereby challenge you to a duel to assert supremacy and determine who is truly strong enough to lead this realm."

"You can't do that!" Fudge insists.

"I just did," I say flatly.

"The Ministry of Magic is democratically elected—"

"Bullshit," I spit. "Do you expect me to believe that any _democratic election_ is fair when mind magic is widely used, even openly by a branch of your own government?"

"I would never use Obliviators against my own constituents!" Fudge sputters.

"Funny how there's absolutely no way to prove that," I say. "I call into question the legitimacy of your position! And your methods. Ritual duel. There's precedent."

"Harry, this is not the way to do this," Dumbledore says.

"Bringing soul-eating creatures of darkness against innocent people wasn't the way to do anything, either!" I snap.

"I am not going to duel a twelve-year-old boy," Fudge replies. "Whether he calls himself a Dark Lord or not."

"Do you forfeit, then?" I ask.

"Harry…" Dumbledore says in a strained voice.

"No," I say firmly, my eyes fixed upon Fudge. "I will _not_ back down. This is unforgivable. I didn't hold you accountable for my godfather being imprisoned for ten years without a trial because it didn't happen under your watch, but _this_? No. You can't just do whatever you want and get away with it. This was _your_ responsibility, and people almost died for it. I will not simply stand by and allow you to terrorize people in the name of tracking criminals, no matter how atrocious they are. You should not be as bad as those criminals you seek to protect people from!"

"I will not kill a child in a ritual duel," Fudge says.

"You aren't facing a child," I say. "You're facing Darth Revan, Time Mage and Lord of Revenge."

"Do you intend to start another bloody war, _Darth Revan_?" Fudge demands.

"Not unless you push me," I say. "How far does the corruption go, Fudge? Do you want me to root it out piece by piece, or shall I just focus on destroying the man in front of me for whom my grievances are most immediate?"

"Aurors, detain this young man," Fudge orders.

"What, you won't even face me yourself?" I snort. "So be it. I hereby claim my rightful place as lord of this realm, for you are too weak to hold it."

I ignite my lightsaber, but I don't even get a chance to use it against him before the Aurors start throwing spells at me. I block the first one, and the second, but I'm outnumbered against people who _know_ how to fight. Their spells tag me, and the world goes black.

* * *

When I wake, I see all four of my bondmates standing around me in my bedroom at Caer Danas. I blink, slowly getting to my feet.

"Have I mentioned lately that you're insane?" Rispy comments.

"That might not have been the best way to handle the situation," Gerard drawls.

"Harry, what were you thinking?" Cassie wonders.

"I was thinking that I could handle them," I reply. "I was wrong. There were too many of them and they were stronger than I gave them credit for. A foolish mistake. I should know better than to underestimate people, never mind give them a fair fight."

"Now you're talking sense again," Gerard says.

"I guess they must have killed me," I say.

"No," Rispy says. "I did."

"You did?" I repeat in surprise.

"They were trying to stun you, not kill you," Rispy says. "In the interests in keeping you out of Azkaban, I killed you after you went down in order to force you to reset."

"Why?" I ask.

Rispy shrugs. "You were talking in the heat of the moment. I thought it might be best to give you a chance to calm down and rethink the situation from the perspective of not being in it. If you still want to go challenge the Minister of Magic to a ritual duel to the death, by all means don't let me stop you."

"He did what?" Tom says incredulously.

"He also declared himself the true lord of the realm," Gerard says with a grin. "It was pretty badass, up until the point where they all hit you with stunners."

I groan and rub my head. "At least I didn't telekinetically pick him up, slam him into a wall, and break his neck. Is there a way to challenge Fudge to a ritual duel to the death _without_ getting stunned by Aurors?"

Cassie puts in, "Weren't you just going to try to get elected?"

"He put _Dementors_ in Hogsmeade," I say. "Children could have _died_ if I hadn't stepped in."

"Seriously?" Tom says. "I thought Fudge was too much of a coward to go that far. Then again, he's still getting others to do his dirty work."

"For the record, I think he's an idiot and I fully support Harry murdering him," Gerard says cheerfully.

"What, exactly, did that Ritual of Purification do again?" Cassie says, raising an eyebrow.

"It fixed our souls," Gerard says. "It didn't make us not still assholes anyway."

"Is wanting to protect innocent people really being an asshole?" I wonder.

"Surely there's better ways to go about it," Cassie says.

"Yes, for starters, I'm going to warn the Hogwarts Express," I say, heading for the door.

"They'll be very impressed with the dragon pajamas," Gerard adds.

I ignore him and head for the dining room. It doesn't look like Sirius is awake yet, but Remus is sitting at the table drinking tea and reading a copy of the _Daily Prophet_.

"Good morning, Harry," Remus says, then cocks his head at me. "Why are your eyes yellow?"

I shrug. "It happens sometimes. Remus, they've put Dementors in Hogsmeade."

"What?" Remus says in surprise. "How do you know?"

"I reset," I say.

"You got the ritual to work again?" Remus asks.

I shake my head. "I don't need the ritual, not for myself, anyway. Time Magic is so innate to me that I'm effectively immortal. Anytime I'd otherwise die, I snap back to a new timeline. The ritual was just to bring other people back with me."

"Was that how you survived the Killing Curse?" Remus wonders.

"Sure, let's go with that," I say. "Can we warn the Hogwarts Express? If they bring those children in there unawares, someone might die."

"Good idea," Remus says. "You stay here where it's safe. Well. I suppose, being immortal, it's not really necessary. And knowing you, you'll do whatever you want anyway." Remus smirks. "Don't worry about it, though. I'll wake up Sirius and get him to take care of it. They'll probably respond better to him."

As Remus heads out and the others head in, I take a seat at the table and stare absently at it for a moment until a cup of tea appears in front of me. I blink and look over. I hadn't even noticed Mipsy come in.

"Tea for all!" Mipsy says cheerfully.

"Thanks, Mipsy," I say. "Ugh. I am _not_ going back into that mess."

"I don't blame you," Cassie says. "You really should think things through before you do them, though."

Tom snorts softly. "On the contrary, if that's the route he wishes to take, I could only ask that he request backup unless he's absolutely certain he's up to the task."

"Well, we know what's coming, at least," Gerard says. "Don't want to go order the Dementors around or anything?"

"He did what?" Tom raises an eyebrow.

"I don't feel like talking to the Dementors again," I say flatly.

"Even if you _don't_ have supernaturally bad luck, you still manage to find trouble," Cassie says.

"It's not even remotely my fault that there's Dementors in Hogsmeade," I say.

"No, but the way you chose to react to the situation is," Cassie replies.

"Point conceded," I say with a sigh.

"Why didn't you cast your Patronus?" Cassie asks.

"Their Dark Side aura hit me harder than I might have expected," I explain. "And I was completely unprepared for it."

Remus comes back into the room. "Ah, you're all here. Sirius went off to King's Cross Station. He was already awake, and a little miffed that someone woke him up to leave the room suddenly."

Tom snorts softly. "He wanted to cuddle."

I stifle a snicker.

Cassie makes a face. "Ugh! Do I really need to hear this about my dad?"

"You get used to it," I say. "Last night, they were talking about what _my_ dad got up to."

"I should go speak to Dumbledore," Remus says. "Unless you'd rather talk to him, Harry?"

I shake my head. "No, I don't think I could do that without blowing up his office."

"We can just stay here for now," Cassie says.

"That's probably for the best," Remus says. "I'll be back later. You kids at least try to stay out of trouble?"

Gerard grins mischievously at him.

"I should clarify trouble that involves you getting hurt, not trouble that involves everyone in Diagon Alley suddenly missing their pants," Remus says. "Make sure Hermione's alright, too."

"Right, alright," I say. "She's probably in the library. I'll check."

He heads for the fireplace, and I make off the hallway down to the library. As expected, Hermione is diligently doing some last-minute studying before the end of break.

"Are we going yet?" she asks, looking up at me as I enter the room.

I shake my head. "Something's come up. We can't go back to school just yet."

"What happened?" Hermione wonders.

"Oh, not much," Gerard says, trailing along behind me. "Just that the Ministry of Magic put soul-sucking monsters of doom in Hogsmeade to try to catch Fenrir Greyback."

"They did _what_?" Hermione exclaims. "Wait, are these using these monsters as attack animals, or are they sentient beings they've employed?"

"The latter, I think," I say.

"Why would the Ministry work with dark creatures?" Hermione asks.

"That's an excellent question and one I would dearly love to find out the answer to," I say.

"What happened?" Hermione asks. "You came back in time again, didn't you."

"Yeah," I say. "Although I would really not like to do that just to erase my mistakes."

"So you admit it was a mistake now?" Gerard says.

I snort softy. "No. It was not a mistake. The only mistake was getting reckless and overconfident."

"Gryffindorish?" Gerard suggests.

"That's horribly ungrammatical, but yes, that," I say.

"What did I miss?" Hermione asks.

"He's going to murder the Minister of Magic," Gerard helpfully puts in.

Hermione blinks. "Would that really help?"

"Probably not," I say. "The whole Ministry is corrupt, if they willfully do this sort of thing. Rotten from root to leaf."

Hermione looks down at the table and puts away her papers. "I don't really think we're in a position to fix that just now." She looks up and peers at me. "Why are your eyes yellow? Are you being a Sith Lord today?"

"Yes," I reply with a faint smirk. "Never underestimate the power of the Dark Side."

"Okay, Darth Revan," Hermione says. "But seriously, what?"

"Guess what, Hermione?" Gerard says, grinning wildly. " _Star Wars_ is real too! We can be wizards _and_ Jedi! Or witches and Sith. Whichever."

Hermione smirks. "Yes, my research suggests that many vastly different methods for using magic are valid. I see no reason why the Force can't be one of those methods. But why would that make his eyes change color? This better not be a stupid prank. If this is just a Color-Changing Charm or something, I'm _so_ going to hex someone."

"You'd think you were in a house with a bunch of irredeemable pranksters or something," Gerard says.

I snicker. "No prank. It just happens sometimes when I get angry." I shrug.

"But they're still yellow and you don't seem angry," Hermione says.

"Oh, no, I'm a simmering stew of rage and hate right now, don't get me wrong," I say. "I'm just not about to take it out on _you_."

"Nobody else's eyes turn yellow when they're angry," Hermione says. "Dark wizards don't turn all ugly and get weird yellow eyes."

"I don't know, from all accounts, Voldemort got pretty ugly," Gerard says with a grin. "And his eyes got all spooky red."

Hermione's questions is a good one, though. Why _do_ Sith get their eyes change color? I know this isn't just because I'm angry at the moment or anything. It was saturation in the Dark Side and being very glad to embrace it. I close my eyes, and force myself to calm down. I am the eye of the storm. Rage won't help me here. Hate won't solve all the world's problems. When I think about it, things are pretty damned good, all in all. I'm very happy with my life. And I promised Remus I wouldn't go down the dark path again. I open my eyes again.

"There, see? Green again," Hermione says.

"Okay, so I have magic color-changing eyes on top of the Time Magic and alternate universes," I say, chuckling.

Hermione frowns thoughtfully. "Al… ter… nate… universes…" she says slowly. "Wait. Wait wait wait. Just how different are some of the alternate universes you've seen?"

"Some you wouldn't recognize as being connected to this one at all," I reply. "Hogwarts is apparently always a 'magic' school of some sort, but it often teaches vastly different forms of magic."

"So one version of it might teach students how to use something like the Force?" Hermione asks.

"Yeah, sure," I say.

" _Is_ the _Star Wars_ universe real?" Hermione wonders. "I mean like, really real? Is it possible to actually go there, or to other places like that?"

"I don't see why not," I allow.

"Yes!" Gerard says excitedly. "And I'm going to be a Sith Lord!"

Hermione rolls her eyes. "You are going to be a good Jedi. We purified you, remember? No going back to the Dark Side."

"Awww," Gerard deflates. "I'll have my own lightsaber soon and everything, too! Actually, I have no idea what color it will turn out to be. I mean, my individual magic effect is red, but that might not mean much."

I chuckle. "Alright, I'll leave you two to geek out over the possibility of visiting a universe almost, but not quite, entirely unlike _Star Wars_. I need to talk to Tom."

I return to the dining room, where Cassie is still worrying herself over another cup of tea. Tom is nowhere in sight, though.

"Where's Tom?" I ask.

"Went to the lab," Cassie replies.

"Thanks," I say. "You okay?"

Cassie nods. "Don't worry about me. Just thinking."

"'Kay," I say.

I head over to the lab, where Tom is fiddling with some pieces of equipment. I'm getting better at reading the runes, but I still have no idea what all this stuff does.

"Tom," I say.

He looks over at me. "Harry. I've been thinking."

"Oh?"

"I believe we should start bonding people again," Tom says.

I raise an eyebrow. "I thought you said we should hold off until you'd sorted some things out."

"Yes, and I've sorted some things out," Tom says. "I think nine _is_ the optimal number of bonds. You currently have four… and this is problematic."

"How so?" I wonder.

"Even numbers are bad luck, four especially," Tom says.

"Here we go with the luck again," I groan. "I thought Cassie and Hermione determined that I don't have any worse luck than usual."

Tom snorts softly. "The card games they mentioned? No, this sort of thing is far more pervasive and insidious than that. After the Ritual of Purification, I find my senses are clearer, and I've determined that something seems very, very wrong."

"Shouldn't we find a way to retrieve the severed bonds first?" I ask.

"Upon re-examining them, I believe only one of them is likely to be retrievable, _possibly_ two. Only that demon, Mouse you called him, had a particularly strong bond to you. The other two are… very weak. I can probably repair those two without much consequence. I do not believe they were proper bonds, in the way that the four of us were. I doubt they actually contained a piece of your soul."

I nod. "Alright then."

"And… especially given recent events, I believe it is _imperative_ to get to seven bonds as soon as possible."

"I'm a little confused about how the numbers thing works," I say. "Doesn't that count include me, too? There's five of us, isn't there? That's an odd number, right?"

"It was a mistake I made with the Horcruxes, too," Tom says quietly. "I believed I should have seven pieces of soul, rather than seven Horcruxes. I went about it all wrong in the first place. I was careless and didn't properly stabilize the setup. I'm being much more careful this time around, especially after that unfortunate incident last year. There's no way I am about to take the chance of disaster again."

"Well, I'm glad you're looking out for my well-being," I say with a faint grin. "But I'm perfectly amenable to adding more bonds. Just how imperative are we talking here? Can we wait until the next holiday, or does this, like, need to be done today?"

"We can wait until Beltane, I think," Tom says. "The extra power will be welcome to ensure stability, and I'd like to take the opportunity to go over the spell complexes again and make adjustments as necessary. It would also be good to think about who we want to bond."

"Who were you considering?" I ask.

"Sirius and Remus," Tom says without hesitation.

I frown faintly. "I can understand that you must have grown attached to them, and I have as well, but… Do you really want a friendship built on a deception? They may find out eventually, and there's only so much you can mess with their minds."

Tom looks off at nothing and says quietly, "I know."

"Do you plan to tell them and try to untangle this mess you've created?" I demand. "Do you think your friendship could stand that? Or do you just plan on living in this fantasy you've created forever? If we bonded them, we'd be spending eternity with them, you know."

"Do you really think I don't realize that?" Tom snaps. "Do you have a better option?"

I sigh. "There's always a third option. Or a fourth, fifth, sixth, or seventh option. It just sometimes takes some creativity to find it. And thinking outside the box, so to speak. In this case… we can go to an alternate timeline where you _haven't_ met them yet and caused this situation. Maybe we could even manage to set things up so that you _are_ school friends in their dorm if you want. It might be tricky and take some work, but things worth doing often do. It probably wouldn't be difficult to find some timeline, _any_ other timeline, where we don't know them yet. Of course, that would mean starting over, but would that be preferable to the situation we have now?"

Tom looks at me, frowning faintly, but says nothing.

"Are you honestly feeling guilty about deceiving them?" I ask.

"This is something of a new feeling to me," Tom says with a sigh. "I would imagine that it's the doing of the Ritual of Purification. Much as I hate to admit it, my emotional state is something of a confusing mess at the moment."

"I wonder if Gerard is also having trouble with that," I muse.

Tom shrugs. "He seems more well-adjusted in general. And his own deceptions are not quite so pervasive. All he needs to do is claim to be a Muggleborn orphan. He didn't need to alter anyone's memories for that."

"I suppose," I say.

"And what about _your_ deception?" Tom asks.

"My what?" I wonder. "I haven't really deceived anyone."

"Have you told anyone that you're not really Harry Potter?" Tom asks.

"That I'm _what_?" I exclaim.

"Did you really not realize that yourself?" Tom raises an eyebrow. "I suppose with the amnesia, it never really occurred to you."

"Back up here," I say. "How am I not Harry Potter? I thought I was just an alternate universe version of him who had been born into a different universe to different parents."

Tom snorts softly. "No. You originally took up the deception at Dumbledore's behest in order to hide the fact that Harry Potter died on his watch, just because you look like him. You're not even from this universe. While I've seen people born into different universes with different parents, you're not one of them. In a world called Thedas, for instance, I was born Thomas Hawke, to a wizard named Malcolm and a Squib named Leandra. I had a brother and sister and was in a warm, loving family."

"And I _wasn't_ born as Harry Potter in this universe?" I ask. "I mean, not this time, I wasn't. I took his place because he died. But how do you know I _wouldn't_ have been Harry Potter?"

Tom shrugs. "I suppose it's possible."

"Right, well, is there an alternative?" I ask. "What about Hermione? Would bringing it up to five for now work? Or Draco, or Brax, or Luna, even?"

"Would you really want to spend eternity with any of those?" Tom asks.

"I don't see why not," I say.

Tom chuckles. "You are very accepting. Given the opportunity, you might be friends with anyone."

"I probably have been," I say.

"The question is, who do you trust completely, who would never betray you in any life?"

I snort softly. "A list that doesn't include those I'm already bonded to."

Tom winces. "Point conceded."

"Luna," I say.

"The Lovegood girl?"

"Yes," I say. "She'd never betray me. I think I vaguely remember she even asked me to take her with me in some time."

"Very well," Tom says. "She has useful abilities, does she not?"

"She's a Seeker," I say. "I mean, not the Quidditch position, that's just stupid. I mean, she can see things other people can't. She knows things that she has no explicable way of knowing."

Tom nods. "You'll have to broach the subject to her yourself once you return to school. I can make preparations. Five will likely sufficiently stabilize it for now. Here. Let me show you this diagram I've made."

An illusion shimmers into existence in the air between us. One shining point in the center, blue, my color. Below it, another point, then off to each corner, three more, each of them linked to the central point by arching bands.

"This is the situation as it stands," Tom explains. "The imbalance off to this empty corner is the one causing issues, I believe."

"Why is that one point below me instead of in that corner?"

"That point represents Rispy," Tom answers. "He's not a wizard, but he's a powerful stabilizing factor. His bond is extremely strong to you, and I believe that, despite or perhaps because of his different flavor of magic or soul, he's something of an anchor to you. You likely remained stable for lifetime after lifetime simply because Rispy was there to anchor you."

"I see," I say. "So these other positions are filled by you, Cassie, and Gerard. Why are they placed at corners like this instead of evenly spaced in a triangle?"

"I tried to see if it would work," Tom says. "I could not get it to. The setup was entropic, and always inevitably decayed. Here. Let me show you the optimal configuration."

The image changes, now showing me at the top, Rispy below me, and eight other spokes arching toward me. Something about this layout feels very, very familiar.

"That's the Nexus," I say, eyes widening.

"It's a very stable configuration," Tom says. "The connection point is held steady by the nine other points."

"It also reminds me of the wheel of the year," I say. "But those are eight holidays. What would the other two points be?"

"That's quite the riddle, isn't it?" Tom says with a faint smirk. "I'd say, Eternity, and Stasis."

"What would have happened with me and my soul had I never bonded anyone?" I ask.

Tom purses his lips. "I don't know. It's likely that you would have eventually encountered something that would affect or change your soul. But would you have remained sane had you been adrift, alone on the seas of time forever?"

"No," I say with a frown. "I wouldn't have."

Tom lets the illusion vanish into mist. "It seems likely that this sort of configuration may have been necessary from the start."

I grumble, "Why am _I_ the center of the damned universe? Why can't we all be in the circle as equals?"

"Someone has to be," Tom says. "The hub of the wheel. Without it, the spokes would have nothing to connect to. And yet, without the rim, the spokes would be bent and break."

"Are you suggesting Rispy is the rim, in this metaphor?" I ask.

"I believe so," Tom says.

"Wouldn't it make more sense to say that he's the stabilizing factor at the center, while I'm the rim?" I wonder.

Tom shrugs. "It's an imperfect metaphor. You speak of equality, but each part is no less important than any other. This Nexus, as you call it, may even be of greater importance than merely just us."

I rub my head. "I can live without any cosmic importance. I already saved the universe _once_ , and I don't even know how I did that. And I kept getting all those prophecies and bullshit. I just want to _live_."

"Then let us live, and do as we choose," Tom says. "And whatever we choose to do with it, I do believe that we will need to build a Nexus of Souls."


	11. Inside Out

Around teatime, the fireplace turns green and Remus emerges into the main hall of Caer Danas, Dumbledore a step behind him. I was wondering when Remus was getting back, and whether Dumbledore would show up. Sirius returned a little bit ago. Tom had decided to stay out of sight, leaving the rest of us sitting around the fire.

"Good day, students," Dumbledore says. "I am glad to see you well, although I am disturbed at the situation. Rest assured that it has been taken care of and you will be able to return safely to Hogwarts tomorrow."

"I hope I haven't gotten too far behind in classwork," Hermione says.

"I would not worry overly much about that," Dumbledore says, then looks to me. "I understand you had a hand in our early warning."

I nod quietly. I remind myself, reasonably, he _didn't_ know about this ahead of time, and he certainly didn't condone it. There's no reason to be angry at _him_.

"Did the situation truly grow so dire as to necessitate the use of Time Magic?" Dumbledore asks.

"I don't want to talk about it," I murmur.

"I shan't pry, then," Dumbledore says. "But if there's anything else you would be willing to tell me about it…"

"I don't know what there is to say," I say with a sigh. "The Aurors didn't realize the children would be returning today. Fudge—" I put my face in my hand. "I don't know who is really at fault in this whole clusterfuck."

"Yes, I have spoken with the Aurors in question," Dumbledore says. "Minister Fudge, however, is completely unrepentant about the situation and has been attempting to press families into removing their children from Hogwarts. A few have done so, but not many."

I groan. "I would really like to actually manage to finish school."

Hermione nods in agreement. "Absolutely. Will school be able to continue?"

"Don't worry about that," Dumbledore says. "Hogwarts has been through worse before. We will continue nonetheless."

"Without soul-sucking monsters of doom at the gates?" Gerard asks.

"Yes," Dumbledore says wearily. "Without soul-sucking monsters of doom at the gates." He gives Gerard a long look and makes a faint smile. "You remind me of someone I used to know."

"Oh?" Gerard says. "Was he cute and awesome like me?"

Dumbledore chuckles fondly. "That he was."

Their eyes meet. I tense involuntarily. Am I going to have to try to fix _this_ mess because Gerard has absolutely no tact or restraint? Why am I allowing them in the same room as one another again? But disaster fails to ensue. Apparently finding nothing out of the ordinary, Dumbledore's gaze passes over Gerard without further comment.

"Am I the problem here?" I ask. "Would the Ministry back off if I were to leave?"

"It's hard to say," Dumbledore replies. "At this point? I doubt it."

"We're basically winding up in a cold war already ourselves, aren't we," I say quietly.

"Harry, I'm sure they will not push things so far as to break out into actual violence," Dumbledore says.

"They sent Dementors to Hogsmeade," I say flatly.

Dumbledore has nothing to say to that.

"I know you're ready to stand against the Ministry no matter what stupid things they're doing, but this is pointless," I say. "They're not the enemy. They're just misguided."

"Could've fooled me," Sirius mutters.

"And corrupt," I correct myself.

"They only grudgingly recognize werewolves as beings instead of beasts," Remus puts in helpfully.

"Not to mention Muggles," Hermione adds.

I sigh. " _And_ racist."

"Can't we just patch up the situation now and worry about fixing the whole world later?" Cassie asks.

Dumbledore puts his head in his palm. "I will speak to the Ministry—"

"No," I interrupt. "I will. I'm the one they have a problem with, not you."

"That's arguable," Dumbledore says.

"Can you manage to talk to them without challenging Fudge to a duel to the death?" Gerard asks.

"I will generously assume that this is a hypothetical," Dumbledore says.

"I'll try to stay calm," I say.

"Do, or do not," Gerard says, winking at me.

"Yeah, yeah," I mutter. "Look, this isn't going to resolve itself, and it's liable to only get worse as time goes on, not better."

"Are you sure about that?" Gerard asks. "They're politicians. Distract them with something else and they'll forget all about it in a week."

I snicker softly. "At this point, you know, that's worth a shot. Who knows any hack journalists that can hype up a stupid, irrelevant story that has nothing to do with me? Besides Luna Lovegood, that is. _The Quibbler_ already prints awesome stuff."

"I can't believe you read that rag," Sirius says. "Try getting in touch with Rita Skeeter. She writes the most ridiculous, overblown stories in the _Daily Prophet_ , and she seems like the sort who would sell her dignity for a few galleons."

"I can't believe you read _that_ rag," I say with a grin. "Alright, but if this fails, I'm going back to Plan B, challenging Fudge to a duel to the death."

"This really ought to be a bit lower than Plan B," Dumbledore says.

"How old do I need to be to run for public office?" I ask. "Everyone seems to know I'm a time traveler at this point anyway. Do they have some way to confirm that I _am_ of age, regardless of my appearance?"

"Don't forget we've got seats in the Wizengamot," Sirius puts in. "Much as the thought pains me."

I nod, and shrug. "You know, I'm just— I'm just… tired of this." I rub my face. "Headmaster, I trust that you'll be able to handle the situation. If not, we'll back you up in whatever way we can."

"Thank you, my boy," Dumbledore says. "If all will be alright here, I should be getting back to school."

"Yeah," I say. "We'll be back at school tomorrow, if nothing else unfortunate happens in the meantime."

Once he's gone, I head off toward the lab, Gerard trailing along after me.

I mutter, "I was worried about you there for a moment."

"Oh, please," Gerard brushes it off. "He wasn't going to see anything I didn't want him to see. I do know Occlumency, you know. It's not like he was doing more than a casual probe. Ugh, he's gotten way too reliant on the Mind Magic. I warned him about that stuff, before."

"Dumbledore?" Tom asks. "I take it he did not attempt to murder anyone here?"

"Bah, most likely just look sternly at us in a disapproving manner," Gerard says. "That's even worse."

"And I _really_ don't want to have to go track down Jez'kai's Horcrux and destroy it just to get him to knock his shit off," I say. "Though I'm afraid I'm going to have to anyway. I can't risk it. I wouldn't even know where to begin."

"Get Remus to deal with it," Tom says. "He'd have a better idea what to look for. You don't have to do everything yourself, you know. Learn to delegate."

"You'd think that lesson would have been drilled into my head well enough by now," I say with a smirk.

* * *

It's probably too much to hope for for the rest of the school year to be quiet, but at least we return to school without further incident this time. As much as I like my house, it's comforting to be back in the Slytherin dungeon again.

"Can you believe it?" Ron says. "Word is the teachers are thinking of extending classes to Saturdays."

"Seems reasonable," I say. "A good number of us are already getting a few days off every month and a half."

"You can't complain, Ron," Hermione says.

I don't think Ron heard about the Dementors yet. For all the trouble involved, it was probably all worth it for the sake of Ron not having to deal with nightmares upon returning from visiting the Malfoys. Ginny didn't have to cry. Sometimes, that's enough.

One of the upper years looks over to Hermione and Gerard. "Oh, looks like the Mudbloods are back."

"Hi, Bole!" Gerard says brightly. "Nice to see you again too!"

"Every time we go on holiday I hope you get lost on the way back," Bole says.

"Oh, but you'd miss me if I were gone." Gerard bats his eyes at him.

"Ugh," Bole says, walking away.

"Have you had much trouble with that sort of thing?" I ask them.

"Nah," Gerard says. "They should have figured out by now that I give no fucks."

"Gerard is liable to just annoy them to death," Hermione adds.

I pull Gerard and Cassie aside and ask, "What do you guys think of Luna?"

"I like her," Gerard says. "She's crazy, like me."

"I'm not sure it's possible for anyone to be crazy like you," Cassie says. "But her heart's in the right place."

"Behind the breastbone and slightly to the left," Gerard says helpfully.

I smirk. "What do you think about hooking up to her? Adding her to our little group?"

"I wouldn't complain of it," Cassie says. "She provides an interesting perspective."

"Hell yes," Gerard says. "Luna's cool. Groovy. Totally rad."

Cassie giggles. "You've picked up the funniest words somewhere."

"Mostly the telly," Gerard says. "Also that American kid in Hufflepuff. The one who always wears his baseball cap backwards and embarrasses any purebloods in a mile radius. Until I met him, I never knew the word 'dude' was so versatile. Dude."

"Hey, Luna," I say, taking a seat on the couch next to her.

Luna lowers her copy of _The Quibbler_ and looks over to me. "Hello, Stormseeker. Has the Rotfang Conspiracy been causing problems again?"

"Yeah, just a few," I say. "Think there's been a lot of wrackspurts floating around, too." I pause thoughtfully. "You call me Stormseeker. Do you have a title yourself?"

"Seeker," Luna replies. "But I don't use it often. People tend to think I mean Quidditch."

A grin spreads across my face. "Don't worry. I won't get confused. I don't even like Quidditch."

"You knew that already, though," Luna says.

"Sometimes I'm not really sure what I know," I say. "Would you like to discover it with me, Seeker? I promised to take you with me. Across space and time. Across eternity." I chuckle. "It sounds awfully romantic when I phrase it like that."

"Are you proposing to me, Stormseeker?" Luna asks.

"Sort… of?" I say. "It would be something of a fairly permanent arrangement, so think it through."

Luna just smiles dreamily. "Think it through? Oh, but I thought you'd never ask."

"Do you even know what I'm asking?" I wonder.

"A Soul Bond," Luna says. "Four threads lead off from you, tying you to others." She cocks her head at me. "One of them is much stronger than the others. That's a solid foundation. I don't think that one would ever break."

"Rispy," I say quietly.

"You better believe it," the house-elf says next to me.

The way he spontaneously appears and disappears, I have to wonder whether he's really watching at every waking moment, or at least paying some small amount of attention. After yesterday's incident, I have to be grateful that someone at least is looking out for me. I can't complain of saving me from myself when it doesn't involve losing my memories.

"Why?" I ask, glancing at Rispy, then back to Luna.

"There are some who would give their soul for the chance to see the multiverse," Luna says. "Not everyone. I would. But, it's been nice having friends. You and your friends have been good to me."

"Well, it'll be nice having you, too," I say. "Want to come over to my place for hols? I've got a nice house."

"Yes, I saw it at Samhain," Luna says with a grin.

"It's a nice house when it's not full of half of Hogwarts, too."

"You should see my house sometime, too," Luna says. "It's also a nice house."

"Sounds great," I say. "How about I stop by your place for Equinox and you can come over to mine for Beltane?"

"I'd like that."

After I get up and walk away from Luna, Pansy approaches me.

"Are you hitting on Luna now?" Pansy asks. "Arranging dates and everything?"

It occurs to me how to actually get Pansy off my case, finally.

"Oh, come on, Pansy, it's not like that," I say. "I'm gay."

"What?" Pansy blinks, somewhat dumbfounded.

"I like other boys."

"Yes, I got that," Pansy says. "You're serious? Oh, Merlin. I mean. I never realized! I must have looked like— Ugh!" She runs off into the girls' dorms.

I rub my face. "Well. At least I hope that one gets into the papers instead of something more sinister this time."

"I'm sure people already know that you're left-handed," Blaise says.

I throw a pillow at him.

* * *

Falk paces angrily at the front of the Defense classroom. I've never seen him quite this pissed off before.

"You," he turns to address the classroom, "are going to learn the fucking Patronus Charm." He scowls. "And you are also going to get 'private lessons' in some spells the fucking Ministry won't want me to teach you, but I don't fucking care about them. These lessons will occur in this classroom, at the time of this class. If the fucking Ministry are going to withhold school funding and then send fucking Dementors around schoolchildren, they don't get any fucking right to complain about what I fucking choose to teach my students in order to defend them from the Ministry's own fucking monsters."

That's an impressive fucks-per-minute ratio.

"Now, the Patronus Charm conjures a thing to help you and defend you against noncorporeal and semicorporeal creatures," Falk goes on. "You can call it a spirit animal, an angel, or an ectoplasmic construct, I don't care. It's a glowy thing and will protect you."

"But we're only second years," Ron says. "That's supposed to be advanced magic. Isn't it really complicated?"

Falk shakes his head. "Pretty simple, actually. The only tough part is the mental component. A happy thought or memory." He snorts softly. "Turns out it's very hard to think happy thoughts when you're standing in front of a fucking manifestation of despair. Who would've fucking thought?"

"So it should be easy to cast when we're not near Dementors, right?" Hermione wonders.

Falk looks at her with a broad grin. "Yep. It's totally easy to cast. Now, I hear tell one of you already knows how to cast it." He looks over to me. "Potter, care to come up here and give us a demonstration?"

I wasn't going to come out and say it, but I suppose it's fair payback for me putting him on the spot with all the shit I've dumped on him. I stand up and head to the front of the classroom, and give a small bow. There are light chuckles around the room as I bring out my wand. No pressure or anything. I take a deep breath and make sure I'm calm, collected, and clear-headed. I bring to mind— thoughts scattered, broken. No, I focus. Happy eternity. That's my happy thought. Eternity.

" _Expecto Patronum_ ," I cast.

The wispy, silvery dragon snakes out from the tip of my wand and coils around the room, briefing stretching her translucent wings over the students before settling in hovering at my side.

"Wicked," Ron breathes.

"Where did _you_ learn to cast that?" Pansy wonders.

"Time travel," I reply offhandedly, shrugging and dismissing my Patronus.

"Now, you all saw the wand movements and incantation?" Falk says. "That's all there is to it. The rest is in your head. Or your heart, if you want to get sappy about it."

Around the room, students begin to practice the spell, some of them managing to produce a bit of light. I frown thoughtfully as I watch them, not intervening just yet.

I turn to Falk and say very quietly, "I was always told that the spell is hard to cast and few wizards can learn it."

Falk snorts softly. "It's just Ministry propaganda that says otherwise. If anyone realized how easy it is to defend yourself against Dementors, they wouldn't make for effective enforcers. And the kicker? Guess what. If you believe a spell is going to be hard for you to cast, you're going to have a hard time casting it, no matter how easy and simple it actually is."

"Really?" Hermione says, probably the only one close enough to overhear us.

"Let me give you one prime example here," Falk says. "His name is Neville Longbottom. First class of the year, he was fucking terrified of me. Well, guess a lot of you kids are terrified of me, but whatever. Longbottom was more terrified than usual. Last year's teacher was apparently so useless that Longbottom couldn't cast a single defensive spell. Well, seems he was also convinced that he couldn't do it, and that he was barely a wizard. How're you fucking supposed to do magic like that?"

"But he _isn't_ a weak wizard," I say.

Falk chuckles. "How many times have _you_ told him that?"

"A few," I say. "If I were in Gryffindor, I'd be telling him that every day until he believed it."

"You know what I did?" Falk says with a grin. He pulls out a wand and twirls it between his fingers. "Tricked him. Told him to cast a Hover Charm on the desk and said I'd help. I waved this stick and said the words with him. The desk lifted into the air. Then I showed him the stick." He holds it up for us to see. "It's not even fucking magical at all."

"Ah," I say. "That's a classic."

"Gotta go with what works," Falk says. "No amount of motivational speaking will help sometimes. You can tell a Muggle magic exists, but they won't actually _believe_ you until they've seen it in a way they can't deny any longer. Belief is a funny thing. Now, why don't you go help the kids who are actually kids?"

"You can't actually cast this spell, can you," I whisper.

"Nope," Falk says with a smirk.

I snicker softly, and go around the room correcting the other students' pronunciation and movements, and try to help them find a thought or memory that will work for them. I have to wonder if Falk is expecting too much of twelve and thirteen-year-olds, but if what he's saying is right, it would explain a lot. Do they only teach the Patronus Charm to those who are training to be Aurors?

"Ugh, I can't do this," Ron grumbles.

"So certain are you?" I say.

"I'm trying!" Ron insists.

"Do, or do not," I say. "There is no try."

"And you keep quoting those stupid movies!" Ron exclaims.

"At least you know they're movies now," Hermione says.

I wonder if they would be more motivated to learn this if they _had_ unexpectedly gone through the Dementors' dark aura in Hogsmeade. If they'd been exposed to Dementors and knew how bad they could be. Would it be better, or worse? Looking at the children and their flickering lights, more response from the charm than I got over however many years of effort I put into it, I can't imagine that it would be better. This magic is so Light Side that it practically hurts. There's a reason the Jedi start training as children, and it's not just to brainwash the younglings. Children are still innocent.

* * *

Dumbledore's office is full of strange devices that tick and ting every time I come in here to talk to him. Today I could swear that there's even more ticking and tinging going on in here than usual.

"I regret to tell you that the situation hasn't improved," Dumbledore says.

I sigh. "There wasn't anything you could do?"

"I did convince them to avoid sending Dementors near Hogwarts again," Dumbledore says.

"I'm going to need to handle this myself," I say quietly.

"Harry, there's no need to go and challenge Fudge to a duel to the death," Dumbledore says.

"Isn't there?" I ask pointedly.

"He's just one man," Dumbledore replies. "He would not have the power he has without the support of those around him. Killing him would change nothing but the name giving the orders."

"I'm not going to start a fucking war here," I mutter. "Look. I'll go. I'll do whatever is necessary to keep you and the school safe, regardless of whether it's being threatened by Voldemort, evil werewolves, or the Ministry of Magic itself. And if what is necessary is me leaving the school or even leaving this timeline, then so be it. I'll withdraw from Hogwarts and go hunt down the Black Spiral Dancers. You can tell them you expelled me for my use of dark magic or something."

"Harry, that's not necessary," Dumbledore says.

"Isn't it?" I ask. " _Isn't it?_ "

I look at him. He meets my gaze. The Force brushes against my mind. More than brushes. In my emotional state, I don't even think to bother to keep him out.

"Harry, _what_ have you been doing?"

Images flash through my mind unbidden. Rituals. People. Cassie's face, growing younger. Gerard— _Gellert_ —appearing before me as a child. Tom looking down at me as I wake. Tom guiding the ritual that bonded me. Tom drawing runes. Tom working. Tom smiling.

"Harry, you've been keeping this all secret from me?" Dumbledore asks, as much gentle concern in his voice as there is alarm.

"Yes," I reply softly.

"You resurrected Voldemort and freed Gellert Grindelwald."

"I did."

"Why?"

I take in a deep breath. I didn't relish having to explain this to him. But there's only so many timelines where I could avoid it. There's only so many lies of omission I can tell. Only so many masks I can wear.

"They were my friends in another timeline," I say. "I trusted them and I wanted them at my side again."

"And you kept this from me rather than explain it?" Dumbledore asks. "Were you so afraid of my reaction?"

" _They_ were afraid of your reaction," I retort. "It was not my secret to tell."

"Taffy," Dumbledore says, and a house-elf appears. "Ask Gerard Boltwood to come to my office, please."

The house-elf nods and pops away.

I sigh. "I'll leave if you want. I'll take them with me and we'll leave this universe and never bother you again. I promised to keep Voldemort from hurting anyone again and I have done so and will do so."

"Be that as it may," Dumbledore says, "I wish to speak with Gellert."

Shortly, Gerard arrives. "You wanted to see me, Headmaster?"

"So… Gellert," Dumbledore says.

"It's Gerard, now," Gerard says, not missing a beat. "That was a long time ago, in another life."

"Resurrection or Time Magic?" Dumbledore wonders. "You look the same, and you clearly remember something."

"Does it really matter at this point?" Gerard says. "I spent decades in prison for my crimes. And now? I'm alive and free and intend to stay that way."

"You realize the position that this puts me in," Dumbledore says.

Gerard snorts softly. "What position? So far as anyone else knows, I'm just a snarky Muggleborn orphan. Did _you_ even know, up until today?"

"You reminded me of… him. You," Dumbledore says. "But I didn't think you actually _were_ him."

"Yeah, well," Gerard says. "For what it's worth, Albus, I'm sorry."

"What?" Dumbledore says.

"I'm apologizing, for whatever good an apology does, for wrecking your family," Gerard says. "I'm not going to apologize for starting a war, even if it seems stupid and pointless in hindsight."

"Gellert…" Dumbledore says softly.

"So, what'll it be, then, Albus?" Gerard asks. "Will you let me live my next great adventure in peace, or shall I get the fuck out of this timeline with Harry?"

"Wouldn't you ask Harry what he thinks of this?"

I smirk. "I'll stand by him no matter what."

Dumbledore stares at me, then back at Gerard. "I'm sorry as well. I do not believe I could stand seeing you here, day after day. Not now. I will not stop you from leaving, but I will ask that you do leave."

"Out of the school, or out of the timeline?" Gerard asks.

"If you were to leave this timeline, you would encounter a version of myself who does not know who you are, correct?" Dumbledore asks.

"Yeah, that's generally the idea," Gerard says.

"How many times have I discovered this, and you avoided the revelation a little longer by shifting into another timeline?"

Gerard shrugs. "Would you believe me if I told you I haven't, not just because of that? For lots of other reasons, yes, but not just that."

Dumbledore pauses thoughtfully. "You underwent a Ritual of Purification."

"Yeah," Gerard says.

"Why?"

"Harry asked me to," Gerard replies.

Dumbledore looks… almost hurt.

"Yeah, I know," Gerard says. "I didn't listen to _you_ but I'll listen to _him?_ I learned my lesson, alright? I'm not going to waste a second chance."

Dumbledore sighs. "Very well. I do not wish you to be around these children any longer. But I will not demand that you leave the timeline if you and your new boyfriend wish to hunt down Fenrir Greyback."

"My—" I stammer.

"But I _will_ ask that the two of you, as well as Tom, leave once that is done," Dumbledore says. "You are willing and able to do so."

"Back up one minute—" I try to interject.

"Agreed," Gerard says. "I was willing to live a new life, but if that's how it is to be, then so be it. The multiverse awaits."

"I'm not—" I begin.

"Let's go, Harry," Gerard says.

" _Gellert!_ " I exclaim.

"Well, I suppose if the cat's out of the bag, I might as well go back to using that name, if you'd prefer."

I put my face in my palm. "Alright, you can wipe that shit-eating grin off your face and we can go get our stuff and go home, then."

"Are Sirius and Remus aware of who your friends are?" Dumbledore asks.

I groan. "No, Tom modified everyone's memories. Pretty much everyone but you and me and Gellert. What, are you going to go and tell them?"

"I'm afraid it would only be fair to them," Dumbledore says.

"How is that fair to _them?_ " I wonder. "How would that help anything at all?"

"I cannot allow you to continue to live in a web of lies," Dumbledore says.

I shake my head. "Do what you think you must. I can't stop you, and I'm not going to shift into an alternate timeline just because things got complicated or inconvenient. Come on, Gellert. We're leaving."

"See you in another life, Albus," Gellert says, winking cheekily, but there's a note of sadness in his voice.

* * *

I return to my dorm and start packing. Not that there's much to do. I keep most of my things at Caer Danas, after all. But I'd hate to leave my school books here.

"What's going on?" Draco leans over toward me.

"I'm voluntarily expelling myself," I reply.

"Bloody hell, mate, why?" Ron asks.

"Complicated," I say.

"That wasn't an answer," Draco says.

"Well, technically it was," Blaise puts in. "It just wasn't a useful answer."

"Dumbledore found out I'm Grindelwald," Gellert says from the doorway.

"What?" Ron asks, confused.

"I'm Grindelwald. Gellert Grindelwald. You might've heart of me. Dark wizard. Started this big war a while back."

"You have got to be joking," Theodore groans.

"Quite frequently, but not about this," Gellert says. "Ah well. It was fun being a cute ickle firstie while I had the chance. Kind of surprised it took him this long to cotton on."

"It's only been six months!" I say.

"Wait, so you two are leaving?" Ron wonders.

"At the same time?" Draco says. "I don't know if we can come up with a cover story that'd plausibly explain both of you."

Gellert grins wildly. "Tell them he kidnapped me."

I roll my eyes. "Do we really need that sort of attention?"

"Why not?" Gellert says. "If this whole thing is down the shitter anyway, might as well go out with a bang and see what we can stir up first."

"Oh, for love of fuck," I mutter. "If we're going to go down _that_ route, why not just tell everyone I'm possessed by the spirit of Voldemort or something?"

Ron stares at me. "Are you?"

"Complicated!" I exclaim.

"That means yes," Gellert says with a smirk.

"Damnit, Gellert," I say.

"Don't worry," Gellert says. "You're _way_ less of an arse than Voldemort."

"Wake me when the world makes sense again," Theodore says, closing his bed curtains.

"I guess this means we're not having a Beltane party at your place this year," Draco says.

"There's that," Ron says. "You up for hosting it instead, Malfoy?"

"You're on, Weasley," Draco says.

"We're expelling ourselves for being secret Dark Lords, and you're worried about parties?" I ask incredulously.

"Well, yeah," Ron says. "And how in the hell were you a 'secret' Dark Lord when you announced it before you even started school?"

"Point conceded," I say.

"Woe is me, this big bad Dark Lord is totally kidnapping this poor, innocent little Muggleborn!" Gellert says, putting his hands in the air. "Maybe if I kick and scream a little as we leave, somebody might actually believe it."

"Don't you have to pack?" I ask.

"Nah," Gellert says. "Nothing in my trunk I want to keep. 'Sides, if we're kidnapping me, it'll be more believable if I just disappear without warning, yeah?"

"This is stupid," I say. "Fine. Let's do this thing."

"Trust you guys can let those in the know in on the scoop so they can support our story?" Gellert says.

"Was _anyone_ in the 'know' that you're Grindelwald?" Blaise asks.

"You know what I mean," Gellert says.

"I'll let Cassie and my 'brother' know what's going on," Draco says.

"Right, well, I can't kidnap you and carry my trunk at the same time," I say. "Draco, can you take care of my books? Oh, and don't open _Turning Points in Ancient History_. It'll make you blind."

Draco blinks. "I wasn't going to."

"'Kay." I pull out my wand and point it at Gellert. "Come on, you sniveling Mudblood, before I hex your pants inside out."

"My underwear or my trousers?" he asks. "It's very important to know exactly what you're being threatened with."

Much as I hate the situation, I think it's time to just roll with it. I've gotten pretty sick of trying to dance around things and lie to my friends and those I should be able to trust. I just wonder how I'm going to break this to Tom. I don't even want to think about how Sirius and Remus are going to react.


	12. Padfoot

After taking a hop to two other places to minimally disguise where I'm going, for what it's worth, I predictably arrive back at Caer Danas. There's things I need to do.

Sirius and Remus are nowhere in sight. Good. Gellert and I make our way to the lab side by side. Tom is inside, but instead of fiddling with the rune complex and equipment, he's just writing.

Tom glances up at us. "Let me guess. We have a new disaster on our hands?"

"Why is it that just us being here means there's a disaster?" I say.

"Yes," Gellert says. "Well, I'm not going to complain. I was getting a little tired of classes, anyway."

Tom sighs and puts his book away. "Alright, what happened?"

"Dumbledore found out," I say.

"Very well, let's go back and make sure this does not happen," Tom says.

"No," Gellert says.

"You can't be serious," Tom says. "We can't let Dumbledore find out."

"I'm with Gellert here," I say. "Enough is enough."

Tom pulls out his wand, but before he can utter a spell, Gellert knocks it out of the air with a flick of his own wand. I hadn't even realized Gellert had his wand at the ready.

"Tom, what the fuck do you think you're doing?" Gellert says.

"Fixing this, since you two seem unwilling to do what is necessary," Tom growls.

"You were going to _kill_ me?" I demand.

"That's how this works, is it not?" Tom says. "You weren't upset about Rispy doing it, but you're angry at _me_?"

"Don't bring me into this," Rispy says from my side. "This is his decision."

Tom moves to pick up his wand, but a twitch of Gellert's wand makes him pause.

"Not yet," Gellert says. "You just stay put for now."

"This is ridiculous," Tom says.

"You trying to kill me is ridiculous," I say.

"So what in the hell are we supposed to do now that our cover is blown?" Tom wonders. "And what about Sirius and Remus?"

"Dumbledore's going to tell them," I say with a sigh.

Tom makes a face. "Can't we just murder Dumbledore?"

"Look," Gellert says. "If we can find this Nexus, none of this will matter. Without school to worry about and take up our time, we can devote ourselves full-time to looking for it."

"And do you propose we fucking throw Sirius and Remus out, or find ourselves a new headquarters?" Tom growls.

"I don't know that they'd want to consider staying here if they knew what all was going on regardless," I say with a sigh. "I'll talk to them and see if I can salvage the situation."

Tom shakes his head. "It's impossible. The situation is hopeless."

"So quick to give up already?" Gellert smirks.

"Don't start," Tom warns.

"I say it'll be a good thing to have nobody in the house that we need to pussyfoot around about who we are and what we're doing," Gellert says.

"I _had_ things under control," Tom says.

"You had them brainwashed," Gellert says. "Was that really the best way you could go about it?"

"Yes." Tom glares at him.

"Can't you two just get along?" I wonder exasperatedly.

"No," Tom says flatly.

"Can't we just amicably despise one another in peace?" Gellert asks me with a grin.

Tom makes a disgusted sound and looks away.

"I don't understand," I say with a sigh. "Why _do_ you two hate one another so much?"

"Shh, don't question it," Gellert says. "I think there's real chemistry here."

"We are done here," Tom says.

I sigh. "I'll go find Sirius and Remus."

A quick search of the house finds them Remus' room, thankfully clothed.

"Hey, guys," I say tentatively.

"We know," Sirius says grimly.

I rub my face. "Damn, that was quick."

"Harry, how _could_ you?" Sirius wonders.

"What do you want to hear here?" I ask. "Do you want some pithy tale about redemption, the power of love, and all that bullshit? Damnit, he could have at least let me explain it myself."

"You had months to explain it yourself," Sirius growls. "I'm going to take this up with Tom himself."

"I'll be on standby in case he Obliviates you again," Remus says.

Sirius storms out of the room, leaving me alone with Remus and my own guilt.

"Remus…" I murmur.

"He had you under it, too, didn't he," Remus says.

"No, he didn't," I say. "I knew exactly who he was. I just… I thought I was doing something good. Giving him another chance, to atone for what he'd done and make up for his crimes."

"Do you really believe that?" Remus asks. "Or is that just what he wanted you to believe?"

I pinch the bridge of my nose. "At this point, I'm not even sure anymore."

"Regardless of what you believed you were doing, you _did_ keep it from us and let him continue to modify our memories, then?" Remus asks.

"I'll not make any excuses for that," I say. "I knew it was wrong and I tried to tell him that on more than one occasion. By that point, though, we were in too deep and there wasn't any backing out."

Remus leans back against the bedpost. "I'm just trying to figure out how complicit you were in all this and how much you were used as much as the rest of us."

"That's a good question," I say. "I _know_ he's messed with my mind before."

"Do you really trust him, or did he make you trust him?"

"This is really a lot more complicated than Dumbledore realizes," I say. "Did he tell you that it was because I met a version of him in an alternate timeline?"

"No," Remus says.

"It's a very long story, and even I don't even know the half of it," I say. "Because he Obliviated me. Repeatedly." I snort softly. "He put some sort of curse on me that would constantly cause me to forget things whenever I used Time Magic."

"If you know that, why are you still supporting him?" Remus asks.

"For one thing, that wasn't _this_ version of him," I say. "For another… how many lifetimes of hate and distrust must we live? I believed that he could be redeemed. I'll still stand by him anyway. If that means that I'll wind up losing you and Sirius…" I sigh. "Then so be it. I won't pretend I won't be upset— that I'm _not_ upset about the whole business. But I've made my choices, and I can only hope that things can be different in another life."

"You're playing with some dangerous business, Harry," Remus says.

"I know," I say. "It would probably be best if you guys went and laid low, regardless. In order to get the Ministry off of Hogwarts' back, I pretended to kidnap Gerard and go all Dark Lord. I won't be going back to school. I might not even be staying in this house."

"Harry, _why_?" Remus wonders.

"You remember those Dementors?" I ask. "If I have to take the fall to keep the children safe, then so be it."

"You don't have to do this," Remus says.

"Don't I?" I ask. "Maybe not, but that's my choice."

"Did _Tom_ put you up to this?"

"What? No," I say. "He's not happy about it, either." I shake my head. "No, it's all probably just as well. By this point, I'm not fooling anyone into thinking I'm just another ordinary kid. They all know I'm a Time Mage."

"What will you do now?" Remus asks.

"Stop Jez'kai and find the Nexus," I say. "After that… I'll think about that when I get to that point."

"You remember your promise?" Remus asks.

"I won't forget it," I say.

"Not even if _Tom_ Obliviates you?"

I make a face. "He won't. I've taken precautions."

"Then I'd best make sure Sirius doesn't get himself killed," Remus says, shaking his head and leaving the room.

Once Remus is out of earshot, Gellert emerges from the woodwork.

"Were you eavesdropping?" I ask.

"You better believe it," Gellert says. "For a minute there I thought you were gonna throw Tom under a bus. Why didn't you?"

"I'm not going to feed your gratuitous hate-fest," I say with a smirk. "Maybe I could have salvaged the situation with Remus and Sirius that way."

"You know, it's not too late to reset it," Gellert says. "Try running these conversations again and see if you can get them to turn out better the next time around."

"I'm not going to use time travel to erase everything bad that happens, either," I say.

"Why not?" Gellert asks. "Aren't we planning to go to some other alternate universe anyway?"

"That's different," I say.

"How?"

"It's easier to deal with things on a larger scale," I say. "If things are _very_ different, as opposed to just a _little_ different. Do you understand?"

"Nope," Gellert says brightly.

"Ugh," I mutter. "Rispy? Have I ever actually managed to finish Hogwarts?"

Rispy snickers in amusement. "Do you really want to know?"

"I can probably infer," I say with a smirk.

"In case I haven't mentioned it lately, you're insane," Rispy says.

"Let's just go make sure those three haven't torn the roof off yet," I say.

" _I can't believe I fucked Voldemort!_ " Sirius' growl rumbles down the hallway as we approach. "Come on, bitch. Draw your wand and duel me."

"No," Tom says.

"Don't just stand there and let me yell at you!" Sirius yells at him.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Sirius," Tom says firmly.

"Don't you want to finish the job you started with James and Lily?" Sirius rages.

"No, I do not," Tom says.

Sirius slashes through the air with his wand, his spell cutting a deep gash into Tom's face. Another attack rips Tom's robes at the shoulder, nearly severing the sleeve. Tom puts his hand over his shoulder and clenches his eyes shut.

"You're not going to fight back?" Remus asks.

"No," Tom says. "Maybe if I die or am badly injured enough, it will force Harry to go back and _change this_."

"Damnit, Tom," I say.

Tom pulls out his wand.

"Going to actually fight now?" Sirius asks.

"No," Tom repeats. He waves his wand and mutters a few words. "There. I've removed my memory modifications. Happy now?" He puts his wand again. "Now, are you going to murder me, maim me, or just storm off in a rage?"

"Doesn't seem like there's much point in killing you, is there?" Sirius growls. "You're never going to properly _stay dead_ , are you."

"Definitely not," Tom agrees.

"Doesn't mean I have to make you _like it_."

In a flurry of quick motions, Sirius cuts through the air, his wand sending vivid purple strokes. Tom falls to the floor, bleeding, robes torn in several places. As if satisfied with his handiwork, Sirius turns on his heel and walks back toward the main hall.

Remus pauses, taking one long look at Tom before turning to follow.

I squat down next to Tom. It would probably be unnecessary at this point to ask if he's alright, so I just try to assess the damage as best as I can.

"By all the gods, dude, why didn't you fight back?" Gellert wonders.

"Why didn't you murder Dumbledore?" Tom asks.

"Point conceded," Gellert says.

"This is your fault, Lexen," Tom mutters, shifting to grab his wand. "Your fault, and you will fix this. If you do not or will not in _this_ timeline, in this universe, then you will do so in some other one." He mumbles a few mystic words, stemming the bleeding.

Gellert raises an eyebrow at him. "Did you actually manage to fall in _love_ , Tom?"

"Fuck you, Gellert," Tom growls. "I will hear no comments from you."

Gellert holds up his hands in surrender.

I sigh. "I'll get you whatever you want, within my ability to do so, on one condition. _No more lies_. Not with my _friends_. Not with _our_ friends."

"Did you expect me to just come out and tell them, hello, I'm Voldemort, I murdered your friends?"

"There are always choices," I say. "And I hate to kick you while you're down—"

"—no you don't," Gellert interjects.

I ignore him. "—but if you can't agree on that—"

"I agree!" Tom exclaims, staggering to his feet. "I agree. Alright? I agree." He groans.

I pause, staring at him and trying to assess the damage. "You want a potion or something?"

"I'm fine," Tom mutters. "So, if you don't want any lies between friends, when are you going to tell them you're not Harry Potter?"

"For all intents and purposes, I _am_ Harry Potter," I say. "Alternate universe weirdness aside."

"When will you tell them that this universe's Harry Potter is dead?" Tom asks.

Gellert gives a low whistle. "I'm sure they'd be thrilled about that bombshell too."

I snort softly. "True. Dumbledore didn't seem concerned about hiding _that_ secret from them."

"Of course he wouldn't," Gellert says. "Albus was never one to be able to own up to his own fuckups."

"Alright, Tom, I'll concede your point on that, and agree," I say. "I might be a hypocrite sometimes, but I won't demand something of my friends that I'm not willing to do myself."

Tom gives a soft grunt, seeming slightly mollified. "I need a drink."

"Dobby," I call, and the house-elf appears. "Can you bring some firewhiskey, please?"

"Until I pass out," Tom adds.

"You could at least pass out somewhere other than the hallway," Gellert says.

Tom snorts softly. "Fine. I will go to my room, and _then_ you can bring me firewhiskey until I pass out."

* * *

Morning comes, after a fitful night that meant I could no longer easily change the events of the previous day. I'll accept those consequences. They'd been threatening to bubble over for months now and it was getting tiresome trying to avoid them for one more day.

Hermione and Cassie are in the dining room waiting for me.

"Hermione?" I say. "Shouldn't you be in school? And was it that obvious where I went?"

"It wasn't hard to guess, at least where to check first," Hermione says. "And so long as I'm back within an hour, I won't be late for classes."

"Didn't believe the kidnapping story, I take it," I say.

"Not for a minute," Hermione says.

"You're very possibly the worst evil Dark Lord ever," Cassie adds. "We've got another problem."

I groan. "Did some new disaster happen while I was asleep?"

Cassie passes over today's issue of the _Daily Prophet_. The headline reads, "DARTH REVAN KIDNAPS MUGGLEBORN". Right below that article, "SIRIUS BLACK VOLDEMORT'S SECRET LOVER".

At least I finally got them to print his damned name, if only to distinguish the two of us.

"How did this happen?" I wonder.

"You could actually read the article, you know," Cassie says.

I skim it, at least. Sirius went to get drunk in the Leaky Cauldron last night and quite loudly babbled out how he'd had sex with Voldemort. He's been imprisoned in Azkaban, 'awaiting trial'. I don't believe for one damned moment that they'll give him a fair trial this time either.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," I mumble.

"We should get back to school before we're missed," Hermione says. "But I want you to know, we're behind you completely."

"I trust you'll be able to rescue my dad," Cassie says.

"You're damned right I will," I growl. "If I have to tear Azkaban down brick by brick and rip the roofs off the Ministry of Magic, I will see him freed."

The two of them leave, and I storm off in a rage to find Tom and Gellert. Not in the lab, but I find them in the library, arguing again.

"Knock off this shit, you two," I snarl. "I will not tolerate _one more word_ of this out of either of you."

"Oh fucking snap," Gellert says. "It's Darth Revan, coming in with yellow Sith eyes."

I slam the newspaper down on the table. "I'm going to Azkaban."

They scan over the headlines. Gellert's eyes widen, and Tom pales.

"You realize, of course, that this means war," Gellert says.

"You're damned right it does," I say.

"I'm going with you," Tom says.

I nod tersely.

"What happened to Remus?" Gellert wonders.

"It doesn't say," I say. "Hopefully laying the fuck low."

"I'll go to the Malfoys and see if I can't muster up some allies," Gellert says. "If we're going to war, we'll need them."

I nod, then glance over to Rispy, who again I hadn't noticed was there before. He's glad in leather armor with his lightsaber at his belt.

"I'm with you," Rispy says.

"Let's do this," I say.

* * *

The closest Tom can Apparate us is a rocky beach along a stormy sea. The dark gray skies let little light through. The wind whips at our robes, tangling them around our legs. I don't relish the thought of crossing these churning waters. But rage is enough to put that out of my mind.

The three of us pile into a boat, and Tom takes the helm.

"Do you think that lightsaber will be useful against Dementors?" I ask Rispy.

Rispy doesn't answer.

I could swear that I can feel the Dementors' cold, oppressive aura long before we reach the tiny island upon which the dark prison stands. It's a perfect counterpoint to the icy rage bubbling within me. I wonder if I can manage to summon a Patronus in this state, or if I'll wind up having to negotiate with the Dementors. I _especially_ don't relish the thought of that latter.

"Lexen," Rispy says quietly. "If you can manage a Patronus, now's a good time to call one."

I nod, pull out my wand, raise it into the starting position for the spell. My mind is a storm of emotions, but _I am the eye of the storm_. Fear at what may await me. Sorrow at potentially losing my friends. Rage at the injustice of the situation all around. Hate of the corruption that led to this place. But there is hope. Hope for a happy eternity for myself and my friends.

" _Expecto Patronum_ ," I cast.

The silvery dragon Patronus shimmers out from my wand, but she seems weak and feeble against the shadows of Azkaban. It's enough, though. Enough to hold back the despair for just a little bit longer. I don't know if it'll get us through the prison far enough to find Sirius, though, and I'm afraid that doubt is going to get us killed, or worse.

We reach the shore and clamber out of the boat. While I'm glad for the reprieve from its incessant rocking, it's hard to ward off the nagging feeling of dread inching in on the corners of my mind. We enter the prison, Tom at my left side and Rispy at my right. I ignite my lightsaber, taking some small comfort in its blue glow, for whatever good it will do. Rispy's own yellow one shines in his hands. Those lights, even the light of my Patronus, seem small against the prison's vast darkness.

"How will we find him?" I ask.

"I'll try a locator ritual, but I'm not sure how much it will help," Tom says.

Prisoners stir in their cells around us, eyes opening, hands reaching toward the light. Some groan, stretching from a long sleep. Some sigh in relief at the momentary reprieve from the Dementors' aura. Some weep, and some beg.

"Tom…" I whisper. "New plan."

Tom looks at me and raises an eyebrow, pausing in what he was doing.

"We free them all," I say.

"Are you sure about this?" Tom asks.

" _FREEDOM FOR ALL BEINGS!_ " I roar.

The Force rushes through me. My Patronus flares brightly. Locks break. Doors clatter open. Chains fall away.

Rispy puts his lightsaber away and goes over to help some of the prisoners who are having trouble standing. He murmurs comforting words, but they aren't really necessary. The prisoners need no encouragement to go toward the light.

"Hear me, people of Azkaban!" I call out, my voice echoing through the prison halls. "I am the Dark Lord Darth Revan, and from this day forth you are free! By blade and spell and word and deed I shall bring down those who cast you into this pit. Never again will I allow people to be imprisoned in such a place as this. I would be glad to have you each to fight at my side, but I will demand nothing of you. You are free to go and do as you choose."

We make our way through the prison, chasing off the shadows and breaking bonds as we go. Rispy helps to lead the freed to the outside. Little by little, the energy drains out of me from so much expenditure of magic.

Then, we finally find the cell where Sirius is being held. With a shouted declaration of freedom, his door crashes open.

"I don't believe it," Sirius says, not looking at me so much as pinning Tom with a stare.

"We weren't going to leave you here to rot," Tom says.

"Why not?" Sirius says. "You left all your other followers here. The ones who didn't claim you were mind controlling them to stay out of prison at least."

"This isn't really the place to have this argument," I point out. "We haven't freed everyone yet, either. Unless you prefer the company of the Dementors to us, you might want to tag along with us or make your way out of here."

Sirius grumbles a little but steps out of his cell and follows after me. "You're really freeing _everyone_?"

"Absolutely," I say. "I know some of the people in here probably did something to deserve _some_ sort of penalty, but _no one_ deserves _this_."

"And _you_ came?" Sirius says to Tom, continuing to peer at him. "After what I said yesterday? After what I _did_ yesterday? You didn't even bother to heal up all the cuts!"

"I don't know if I can fix this in this life or this universe, but…" Tom puts his face in his hand. "Fuck, this is hard."

I pause to rest for a moment after finishing another corridor full of cells, leaning against a dank stone wall to catch my breath.

"There were times I wished the lie of a life I'd concocted for myself were real," Tom says quietly. "There were times I even managed to make myself believe it _was_ real."

"I can't believe I'm hearing this," Sirius says. "Not from you, of all people. I'm not going to listen to anymore lies from you."

"Sirius…" Tom says, his voice almost in pain.

One more row, I think that's all there's left. cell by cell by cell, people stir in the wavering light of my Patronus. Flickering, fading, drained of power. How many more cells are there? Did I really get them all, or is there another floor, another wing, another block that I haven't found yet? How many people has the corrupt Ministry imprisoned, and how many of them actually committed any real crime?

" _No_ , Voldemort," Sirius says. "The minute we're out of here, I'm parting ways with you and _never_ speaking to you again. I will _not_ forgive you. Not for this."

My Patronus winks out, like a candle in a sharp gust of wind, and we're plunged into darkness.

"Fuck," I utter. I hold out a clammy hand to steady myself against a wall, but it's almost overwhelming.

Tom takes in a deep breath. "If that is your choice, then so be it. I won't force you to do anything. As much as it pains me, I'll just be glad to know you're safe and free. Maybe I've spent too long around Harry. His idealism is infectious at times."

"The hell are you saying, Voldemort?" Sirius demands.

"What I'm saying is," Tom says, lifting his wand. " _Expecto Patronum!"_

Light emerges from Tom's wand, bright and strong, taking the shape of a large, silver dog.

"You are my happy memory."

I steady at the warmth of Tom's Patronus, and straighten. Still weak from having used so much magic, but the Dementors can't penetrate the aura this cheerful, happy dog is emitting. It lopes up next to Sirius, panting and grinning.

Sirius is stunned speechless.

The dog turns its head and looks toward the exit, then cocks its head at us, as if beckoning us to leave. I, for one, need no further encouragement. We follow the dog out in silence. I don't know what to make of this, but it's hard not to be happy in the presence of a Patronus.

* * *

We get most of the escapees to the Lestrange Estate and have Mipsy bring them chocolate, but take Sirius back with us to Caer Danas. He's still more than a little stunned over recent events.

"I'm going to find Remus," Sirius says.

"You're going to sit down and drink your hot chocolate," I say. "Rispy's going to find Remus."

Sirius grumbles a little but doesn't argue any further. He takes a seat in the plush armchair in front of the fireplace and takes a long drink.

"I promised your daughter to get you out of there safely," I say.

His daughter that isn't really his daughter. How many lies can you get past? This life was built on deception right from the start. One lie after another, built on top of one another until the whole thing threatened to collapse in on itself. And now that tower of lies is shaking.

I take a seat next to him and let out a heavy breath. We're alone now, with Gellert still away, Tom trying to sort things out at the Lestrange Estate, and Rispy gone off to find Remus. I should take my own advice, too. The hot chocolate. In this moments after my Patronus fell, I could hear the whispers of the Dementors again, demanding souls. I take a drink and try to put it out of my mind.

"There's a lot of things we need to talk about," I say.

"I'll bet," Sirius says. "If you've got anymore bombshells, you might as well get them out of the way now."

"I was hoping you could recover a bit more first, but…"

"I'm fine," Sirius says, taking another drink. "I was only in there a few hours. That's nothing next to ten years."

"Alright, well." I hunch over, elbows on my knees, staring at the fire and not him. "This is pretty complicated."

Sirius snorts softly. "If you hanging out with Voldemort is the least of it, I can't imagine what else there might be."

"I'll start from the beginning, then," I say. "I'll wait for you to finish your hot chocolate first, though. We don't need any spit-takes."

"Fine," Sirius says. He drains his cup and sets it aside.

"I'm from the future," I say. "Or an alternate timeline. The future of an alternate timeline, really."

"I've already figured that out," Sirius says.

"Right, I guess I wasn't being very subtle about that," I say. "What that doesn't take into account, though, is that there was another Harry Potter who originally used to be in this timeline."

"Used to be?" Sirius repeats.

"After— After my parents were killed, and you were imprisoned, Dumbledore decided to leave him with my aunt, Petunia," I explain.

" _Petunia_?" Sirius sputters. "Why in the hell? She's horrible!"

"Yeah," I agree. "The— well, there's no easy way to say this. The Harry Potter originally from this timeline died at the age of five from a fall down the stairs."

" _What_?" Sirius exclaims.

"I won't go so far as to say he was pushed or that there was any foul play involved," I say. "I don't know that."

"Fuck," Sirius utters. "I shouldn't have run off like an _idiot_. I should've—"

"Shh," I say, holding up my hand. "Yes, it was stupid. But there's no wisdom without regret, and I've had my fair share of regrets, too. There's no changing it, now, though. And it's why I'm here. This universe was left without a Harry Potter. So I took his place."

Sirius doesn't respond immediately, staring intently into the fire. When he eventually says something, it's in a quiet, distant tone. "So if you hadn't come, I might've been stuck in Azkaban forever. And even if I got out, I would've found out my godson was dead. Fuck. That's _worse_ than being stuck in Azkaban for life."

"I'm sorry," I say.

Sirius shakes his head. "Not your fault. My fault."

"Dumbledore's fault," I say. "He covered it up, too. He had another Harry Potter. He didn't have to tell anyone how he'd fucked up."

Sirius puts his face in his palm. "Fuck. And yet he had to tell me— about Tom."

"Yeah," I say quietly. "I won't speak too badly of him, but I can't speak too well of him, either. He's made his own share of mistakes."

"No wonder you never really seemed to trust him," Sirius says.

I give a long pause. "So, Time Magic. I've seen a lot of alternate timelines, but I don't remember most of them. I had memory problems. It was why I was going to Hogwarts again. To relearn what I'd lost and try to jog my memory a bit."

"Damn, that must be obnoxious," Sirius says.

"You have no idea," I say. "I didn't really mind, though. Going to Hogwarts again, I mean." I snort softly. "I just kind of wish I had a chance to finish school."

"You left school?" Sirius asks.

"Can't forgive what they did to you," I say. "I'm going to war. The Ministry will fall."

Sirius grunts. "At this point, I can't even really argue that sentiment."

"We broke everyone out of Azkaban," I say quietly. "That includes former Death Eaters. That's not the army I wanted, but it's the army I got. I'll do my best to minimize civilian casualties and collateral damage."

Sirius makes a face. "To think this is what I once tried to stop. To think I once defended a Ministry that would lock people up without trial and work with creatures like Dementors."

"You were young," I say. "You probably didn't even realize the extent of the corruption."

"Damn right I didn't," Sirius says. "But I should have learned and thought things through first. And it was your parents who paid the price. Them and many others."

"It's a hard road to wisdom sometimes," I murmur. "Most people don't get a second chance, never mind however many I've gotten because of Time Magic."

"Alternate universes, that's a nice thought," Sirius says.

"Trying to take a shortcut to find the 'perfect' one or to undo anything bad that happens, though…" I say. "It's kind of…" I hesitate. "It feels like it cheapens things. Like you never have to deal with your mistakes. Erasing any consequences of anything that went wrong."

"Guess so," Sirius says. "But is that so bad?"

"Maybe," I say. "Tom wanted so badly to erase the fact that Dumbledore had blown his cover that he tried to trigger it forcefully. I don't think he wanted the dream to end. I made him face it and he was not happy about it at all."

"I remember remembering things," Sirius says. "Being perfectly honest, I kind of wish it had been real, too. I wish he'd been my friend all along, and not just a Dark Lord lying and manipulating people."

"He just used it as cover at first," I say. "And then, well… I don't know how it happened, though I think the Ritual of Purification played a good role in it."

"What if I'd been able to go back and prevent your parents from being killed?" Sirius asks.

I shrug. "Then it would be a different timeline, an alternate universe. I can't say if it would be better or worse than this one. They might have lived at the expense of other, possibly worse things happening. It's impossible to say. Not to say that it's not worth trying, if that's what you wanted, but it wouldn't erase _this_ timeline."

"So, what, are you saying that we should just accept things the way they are?" Sirius wonders. "That for all your vaulted Time Magic, you shouldn't actually use it?"

"No," I say. "Just that it's not the answer to everything. I can't make everything right with a wave of my wand. I can give another chance, but it's still up to us what we do with it. And if we get used to always having another chance, to throwing away what we have or doing stupid things just because they could be undone and won't matter in the end, that's treading down a dangerous path, and won't do us or anyone else any good in the long run."

Sirius frowns. "Not sure I really follow, but I guess you have more experience with Time Magic than I do."

"Sort of," I say. "I never really experimented much with it, I don't think, though I've been doing it some in this life. Developed some new rituals. Some secret rituals that I've tried my damndest to minimize the number of people that know about them."

"Going to share, now?" Sirius asks.

"I've developed a ritual to change people's age, to restore their youth," I say.

"Hot damn," Sirius whispers. "Yeah, I can see why you'd keep that quiet. They'd be lining up at the gates." He pauses. "Wait, who did you use this on? _Hermione_?"

I laugh softly. "You'd think, wouldn't you? No, she's just a very precocious thirteen-year-old, regardless of what she acts like." I sober. "Cassie and Gerard. And Abraxas Malfoy."

"You're shitting me," Sirius says. "They're such kids!"

"No joke," I say. "Cassie's actually your great-aunt, Cassiopeia Black. She figured this was a good cover, and it didn't require modifying anyone's memories or even any great stretch."

"Damn," Sirius says, his face falling. "So I don't really have a daughter?"

"I wouldn't say that," I say. "She's as much your daughter as I am Harry Potter. Kind of. She's still your blood." I add quietly, "And she loves you, and I think she wants you to be her father as much as you wanted her to be your daughter. She only ever refers to you as her dad even when the only ones present know about the Ritual of Renewal."

"This is a lot to take in at once," Sirius says. "So, who is Gerard, then?"

"Well…" I drawl.

Sirius groans. "I'm not sure I want to know, but you might as well tell me anyway."

"Gellert Grindelwald," I say. "I got him out of prison and gave him another chance at life. One, you might have noticed, that he's embraced with relish."

"Is there _anyone_ around me who is who they said they were?" Sirius asks incredulously.

"I don't _think_ Remus is hiding any dark secrets," I say. "That I know of, at least. And I'm reasonably sure Hermione isn't."

"I think I need more hot chocolate," Sirius says.

Dobby cheerfully refills his mug.

"Thanks," Sirius says, picking it back up and taking a drink.

"I'm sorry we hid so much from you," I say. "It feels like the truth is such a mess that we'd rather believe in the dreams we've built."

"So long as we're getting all the cards on the table, is there anything _else_ you have to share?" Sirius asks. "Just so I know how much I need to be shocked."

"Hmm," I hmm. "I was a Jedi in an alternate universe."

Sirius turns and looks at me incredulously, then throws back his head and laughs uproariously. He pauses, then looks at me, then looks at the lightsaber at my belt, and says, "You're serious? Don't answer that." He laughs so hard he cries. "Merlin, either the Dementors finally cracked my mind, or my life is more interesting than I had possibly imagined."

"You can see why I call it complicated," I say.

"'Complicated' is when you have to tell your pureblood mother that you're interested in other men," Sirius says. "This is _way_ beyond 'complicated'."

I laugh softly. "When you've got as many complications as I do, you tend not to want everyone to know about all of them. Especially when bad things can happen if the wrong people find out the wrong things."

"That I can understand," Sirius says.

The fireplace flares green, and Cassie steps into the room. She smiles brightly and rushes up to hug Sirius.

"Dad!" Cassie exclaims. "I knew if anyone could get you out of that awful place, Harry could do it."

I grin. "Hey, I wouldn't perform miracles for just anyone."

Sirius looks down at Cassie with mock-sternness. "You know, Harry's been telling me about his Time Magic. About how you're not 'technically' my daughter."

Cassie's face falls, and she glances at me with a look of betrayal.

"Why didn't you just tell me?" Sirius asks.

"I had to be sure everyone's behavior would be natural," Cassie explains. "Not to put a fine point on it, but you're awfully bad at acting and concealing what you think and feel."

Sirius snorts in amusement. "It's like you know me or something."

Cassie gives a small smile. "Yeah. Sorry. Really. I always meant to tell you, but I was having so much fun just being your daughter."

The fireplace turns green again, and Gellert emerges this time.

"Hello, Gellert," Sirius says.

Gellert grins. "He told you, did he?"

"If I didn't tell him everything, it was because I forgot," I say.

Gellert giggles. "Greatest prank ever."

Sirius laughs. "Well, when you put it that way…"

"It would have been a better prank if you hadn't gotten caught," I say.

"Hey, that was totally not my fault," Gellert says.

"Yeah, sorry," I say.

"I never would have thought of Grindelwald as a champion prankster," Sirius says.

Gellert waggles his eyebrows at him.

Sirius can't help but keep laughing. "You two are incredible."

"I do try," Gellert says.

Sirius says, "I just want to know, how much of acting like a kid is actually acting?"

"You can get away with a lot if you look like you're eleven," Cassie says. "You're not expected to act all dignified."

"Well, so far as I'm concerned, you can go ahead and act like a kid all you like, no matter how old you look," Sirius says. "Merlin knows I certainly do."

I smirk. "I wasn't going to say it."


	13. Warning

Come morning, I take a trip to Hogwarts, coinciding my arrival with breakfast, when most students would be in the Great Hall. I stride through the doors, letting them slam dramatically as I enter the hall. All eyes are upon me. I put up a voice amplification charm.

"People of Hogwarts!" I announce, my voice echoing across the hall. "I, Darth Revan, hereby declare war upon the Ministry of Magic! Their crimes and corruption will not go unanswered."

I pause, looking about the room at frightened children.

"I know some of you have family working at the Ministry," I continue. "I know some of them may be innocent. Consider this fair warning. Contact your family and warn them. Do not stand in my way. I will have justice. I will liberate this realm. And I will destroy all who stand in my way."

Some of the children look about ready to stay something, but reconsider at the last moment and close their mouths.

"You have three days," I tell them. "Heed my words. Warn your families."

With that, I turn on my heel and stride back out the doors. Behind me, the Great Hall bursts into babbling. I wonder, for a moment, if anyone will try to stop me from leaving, but no one fires any spells at me.

When I arrive back at Hogsmeade, Dumbledore is waiting for me. Damn my need to rely on the Floo network. I really need to learn to Apparate.

"Harry, you don't have to do this," Dumbledore says.

"I know," I say.

"Why, then?" Dumbledore asks.

"They imprisoned Sirius on trumped-up charges, _again_ ," I say. "This is unforgivable. This was the last straw."

"You're starting a war after all," Dumbledore says.

"I am," I say. "I didn't want to, but I think we both knew that it would come to this, sooner or later."

"Is this really about justice, or revenge?" Dumbledore asks.

"I'm done with revenge," I say. "And while death isn't justice, neither is throwing people to the Dementors."

"Is this really the answer?" Dumbledore asks. "Will you resort to the terror of Voldemort's campaign?"

"History is written by the winners," I say. "Whether we win or lose will decide if history will remember us as cruel terrorists or righteous revolutionaries. For what it's worth, I will try to minimize casualties. There's no sense in destroying a society when attempting to conquer it."

"How can I trust that, when you have Voldemort and Grindelwald at your side?" Dumbledore asks.

"Are you here to fight me, Headmaster, or just speak to me sternly?" I ask. "Do you seek to stop me or merely warn me? Are you _really_ interested in my answers and motivations?"

"Are you looking for a fight?" Dumbledore asks.

"Not with you, no," I say. "What do you want, Dumbledore?"

"I want you to stop this," Dumbledore says.

"Do you really?" I retort. "The world is threatened by insane werewolves and whatever else, and the Ministry insists on taking it out on children and suspecting everyone of harboring evil? Those accused of trivial crimes get locked up for life, while those who have performed much more heinous acts go free? You're damned right this is about justice."

"For the greater good?" Dumbledore suggests.

I snort softly. "No. For what I believe is right. And I don't believe even a single injustice committed in the name of stopping injustice is right."

Dumbledore pulls out his wand.

"Damnit, Dumbledore," I mutter. "I don't want to fight you."

"And I don't trust your motivations."

I block the first stunner out of his wand before I even realize my lightsaber is in my hand. Before me isn't a wizard, but a Jedi with a blaster and some tricks. No, not a blaster. He needs that wand for those tricks. All I need to do is get it away from him.

Combat reflexes and battle precognition take over, and I dodge and block spell after spell. But what finally gets me is a stone wall falling over and crushing me to death.

* * *

I wake up at Caer Danas. Not an entirely surprising result. I get dressed and make to get ready again, with a few extra preparations.

"What happened?" Gellert asks.

"Dumbledore wants a fight," I say.

"Uh-oh," Gellert says. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to give him one," I say.

"You think you can beat him in a duel?" Gellert asks.

I grin wildly. "I don't have to. I know where he'll be and what he'll say and do. I don't need to give him a fair fight."

"You going to kill him?"

"Nope," I say. "Just going to take his wand away." I work up my face thoughtfully, a memory trying to resurface. "That wand is important. Can you jog my memory?"

"It's the Elder Wand," Gellert says. "One of the Deathly Hallows. Supposedly unbeatable. Like the _Titanic_ was unsinkable. Very powerful nonetheless."

"Deathly Hallows?" I ask.

"Yeah. Three magic items supposedly made by Death himself. The other two are the Cloak of Invisibility and the Resurrection Stone. Whoever unites all three of them becomes the Master of Death, according to legend."

"Oh," I say. "Those. Guess I'll go for the trifecta then. Whatever 'Master of Death' means."

"Wait, you already have the other two?" Gellert asks.

I pull the cloak out of my pocket, where I always carry it around just in case and then forget I have it when it really would have been handy. Funny, I could have just as easily put it on after leaving the Great Hall and avoided fighting anyone in the first place.

Gellert looks at it, raising an eyebrow. "Huh, yeah, that does have the Deathly Hallows symbol on it. And the stone?"

"In storage," I say. "Tom had made it into a Horcrux, because he's kind of an idiot."

Gellert puts his face in his palm. "Can you be _retroactively_ Master of Death in your inability to stay dead?"

I shrug. "No idea. Guess it doesn't matter at this point."

"Should I wish you good luck?" Gellert asks.

I laugh softly. "Nah. I'll make my own luck."

I take the Floo back over to Honeydukes and greet the proprietor. He's one of the ones I saved from the Black Spiral attack, and doesn't believe for a moment the things the _Daily Prophet_ prints about me, so he always lets me use his Floo for transportation.

In the early morning light, I take the time to set up some nonmagical tricks and traps. Normally, I would just put up a ridiculous amount of explosives, but I'd rather not blow up the town and I'm not aiming to kill Dumbledore. I _could_ kill Dumbledore, given the persistence and willingness to use unorthodox tactics, but I don't want to. It's not necessary, and it would disrupt things at Hogwarts far too much, not to mention that he's not a bad person. Not innocent by any stretch of the word. Good, just misguided. And so, to that end, nonlethal traps.

If Hogsmeade were still as populated as it had been at the beginning of this year, people might be questioning my activities. As it is, a good portion of the population has evacuated, at least temporarily. As it is, one person notices me.

"Hey, kid," says a man's gruff voice. "What're you doing there? Shouldn't you be in school?"

I glance aside. Crap, I forgot Dumbledore's brother is in town. Well, I suppose his brother is also Dumbledore. Aberforth, that was his name.

"Class hasn't started yet," I say. "I'm setting up a prank."

He snorts. "On who? Student visits were canceled for the rest of the year."

"Your brother," I say, letting out a childish giggle.

Aberforth makes a disgusted sound. "Run along back to school, kid. If you go right now, I won't tell anyone you should be getting detention."

"Alright, alright," I say dejectedly.

I make my way toward the gates of Hogwarts. At least he didn't seem to recognize me. He'll probably dismantled whatever traps he can spot, so I won't be able to rely on the half-finished ones around the Hog's Head. No matter. I'll just have to lead Dumbledore by the other side of town.

I enter the Great Hall at the appropriate time and repeat my announcement, then return to Hogsmeade. Dumbledore is waiting for me. I would dearly like to have Dumbledore on my side rather than as my enemy, but I have to remain honest.

"I don't want to fight you," I tell him after a distressingly similar conversation.

"And I don't trust your motivations," Dumbledore says.

We fight. This time, I'm prepared for his tricks. And this time, I have tricks of my own. I lead him near an eave, and tug down at a string. A barrel of honey on the roof tips over and pours onto him. I'm thankful that the barrel has been charmed to make the honey flow easier, and also to Honeydukes for letting me purchase a barrel of honey on short notice. And not asking what I was going to do with it.

Dumbledore sputters as he's covered in sticky fluid, getting some in his eyes as he looks around warily, but I'm no longer in front of him. I dart across to the next building. I grin madly at him, and when he looks over to me, I make a 'bring it' gesture.

He wipes his face and peers at me suspiciously, takes a few steps forward, dripping honey onto the ground. With three quick flicks of his wand, a trio of stunners flies toward me. I dodge, deflect one, and manage to strike a trigger with a deflected bolt. Saves me the trouble of doing it myself. A makeshift catapult flings a pile of pillows at Dumbledore. He spots them flying toward him, and slashes toward them with his wand, cutting them open and covering him in feathers as they land.

I laugh aloud. That went even better than expected. I was worried they wouldn't burst open like they were supposed to.

"Harry…" Dumbledore says with a strained voice. "You _have_ been associating yourself with some inveterate pranksters indeed."

"You better believe it," I say. "Do you yield?"

"I'm afraid not," Dumbledore says.

I hope the third trap is still working. I run down the street with Dumbledore trailing along behind me. Crap, there's Aberforth again.

Aberforth takes one look at the both of us and says, "Kid, I think you're confused. That's not what a 'honey trap' is. And the expression is 'tarred and feathered', not 'honeyed and feathered'. Also, you've probably got the whole rest of the year in detention now. And put down that magic sword before you hurt someone!"

Better think fast.

"Detention sounds like fun!" I laugh, running over to try to trigger the next trap.

"Sorry, kid, I already took down your prank," Aberforth says.

Aberforth waves his wand at his brother, uttering a word to try to clean off the sticky stuff. It occurs to me that it might have been more useful to soak Dumbledore in something slippery instead of something sticky.

"It won't work," Dumbledore says. "I already tried."

"Why will this not come off?" Aberforth mutters.

"Magic," I reply.

I have no more traps. I'm going to need to improvise. Maybe I can take them out with a spell, but I'll need a clear shot. There's no way I can take Dumbledore in a fair fight, never mind both of them. Maybe something to knock them to the ground. Casting spells with a lightsaber feels weird but seems to work well enough for spells that don't require fine movements.

"Rispy," I say. "Could use a hand about now."

The house-elf appears on the far side of them and ignites his lightsaber, grinning. The Dumbledores turn to him, distracted just for a moment. I only need a moment.

I think of the ground as ice. I think of the raging snowstorms of Hoth. I think of frigid winter. A spell comes to my mind unbidden from somewhere in the recesses of my memory.

" _Nevischio!"_ I cast.

I don't know what I just cast. The word is out of mind the minute it leaves my mouth. Sleet rains down upon the street. A slick coating of ice covers the ground beneath their feet. A sharp gust of wind knocks them off-balance.

" _Expelliarmus!"_ I cast.

Taken by surprise, Dumbledore reacts too slowly. My spell strikes him and the wand goes flying from his hand. I clamber over to snatch it up before they can recover. Aberforth fires a curse. I don't manage to block it, and it strikes me in the leg, causing me to stumble and almost fall.

"I've got your back," Rispy says, stepping between them and me.

"Thanks!" I call.

I snatch up the wand and hobble into the Hog's Head. It's closer, and there's no need to go through Honeydukes and draw suspicion in that direction. There's a couple people inside, who glance over at me when I enter, but as none of them raise a wand to stop me, I make straight for the fireplace.

I toss in some Floo powder. "Knockturn Alley!"

The fire turns green and I step through, tumbling out on the far side into the dingy alley. I wince and grit my teeth at the treatment of my injured leg. I'll need to take a look at that when I get home. I turn right back around and toss some more Floo powder into the fireplace I just came out of.

"Zonko's Joke Shop!"

I hop through again back to Hogsmeade, this time to a shop I know is closed for the moment. It's sealed up from the outside, making it impractical as access to Hogsmeade itself, but I don't think Zonko or whoever it is that owns the place realizes that the Floo address is still open.

More powder into the fireplace. "Caer Danas!"

My _own_ house, on the other hand, I've made sure to set the Floo to allow no unauthorized access. Gellert is in the main hall waiting for me when I fall out of the fireplace gracelessly.

"Well, you don't look too badly maimed," Gellert says. "How'd it go?"

I grin madly and hold aloft the Elder Wand.

"Nicely done, but did you win its allegiance?" Gellert asks.

"Hmm," I hmm. "I think so? It feels like it. Reminds me of that one time I killed a Sith and claimed their lightsaber."

"Excellent," Gellert says, a wide grin spreading across his face. "How'd you manage it?"

"By not giving him a fair fight," I say.

Gellert smirks. "You think I never tried that?"

"I don't think he expected to be coated in honey and covered in feathers," I say. "Spelled to not easily come off."

"Loki's tits, Harry, you _pranked_ Albus into submission?"

"You and Sirius are infectious," I say.

Gellert practically falls over laughing. "I don't think I could have ever gotten away with that. He would have taken me too seriously for it to work."

"Also, Loki's tits?" I wonder.

"Swearing is fun," Gellert says. "Take the name of a god, preferably tangentially related to the subject matter, and combine it with a bodypart. Dude, all the wizards around here swear by Merlin. That's boring. Merlin is totally overrated."

I limp over to the armchair to sit down for a moment.

Rispy pops in beside us. "I don't think those two are very happy."

"Those two?" Gellert asks, leaning over to take a look at my leg.

"Aberforth was there too," I explain.

"Though I think they're more confused than angry," Rispy adds. "Also, still trying to get the honey off."

"How _did_ you manage to get it so sticky?" Gellert wonders.

"Scratched a few runes on the barrel," I reply. "I wasn't sure it would work myself."

"Oh, they'll have fun with _that_ one, if it's not just a common spell," Gellert says. "They'll probably need to destroy the barrel." He pokes my leg with his wand. "Doesn't look serious. Just a minor jinx. You must've really caught them off-guard if they weren't shooting to kill or maim."

"I think Aberforth didn't realize who I was," I say.

Gellert mutters a few words, and the pain in my leg subsides. "Well, congratulations, Master of Death." He snorts in amusement. "With your time shenanigans, it might _well_ be retroactive for all I know."

"Thanks," I say, standing. "I'd best check in at the Lestrange Estate and see how Tom and our new army are doing. How'd things go with the Malfoys, anyway?"

"Took me a bit of convincing to get them to realize who I am," Gellert says with a smirk. "But we've got their support and their contacts."

"Great," I say. "I'll be back later."

"I'll hold down the fort," Gellert says.

"You mean you'll watch _Doctor Who_ reruns," I say.

"That, too," Gellert says.

* * *

Tom had stayed at the Lestrange Estate overnight, perhaps as much to avoid Sirius as to keep an eye on the Azkaban escapees.

"Slept in?" Tom asks.

"I went to Hogwarts," I say. "I warned them to get their families out of the Ministry and not to stand against us."

"You shouldn't have warned them," Tom says. "This will make our raids more difficult."

"I won't kill innocents," I say.

"Are any of them really innocent?" Tom asks. "Even if they weren't directly involved, they were still complicit."

"Also, I dueled Dumbledore," I add.

"Ah, that would be the reset I felt," Tom says. "Did you kill him?"

"Nope. Humiliated him and took a souvenir," I say, holding up the Elder Wand.

"Well enough," Tom says.

"Things well enough here too?" I ask.

"Mipsy's been drowning them in chocolate," Tom says. "Though it won't be much help for some of them. Some are too far gone to likely fully recover from Dementor exposure. Some left this morning or declined to come back with us."

"Just glad they're out of there," I say. "Every one of them free weakens the Ministry's grip regardless."

"We could still take control of the Dementors," Tom suggests.

I shake my head. "No. I don't want to work with those things. Not even to keep them out of the hands of the Ministry."

"Very well," Tom says.

I look over the assembled escaped convicts. Some of them have been cleaned up, but most are nearly as bedraggled as they were when we pulled them out of prison yesterday. Their bodies are emaciated and their faces are sunken. Mipsy will have her work cut out for her if she wants to feed everyone. I'll have to arrange some help for her.

I step forward to address them. "I am Darth Revan. Welcome to your first day of freedom. Never again shall we stand by and allow others to control us! Anyone who stands with me, I will defend your life and freedom to the death, and I hope you shall do the same for me and one another."

"Darth Revan," repeats one wizard, glancing between me and Tom. He lowers his voice. "Are we reuniting the Death Eaters?"

"We're uniting everyone we can muster to a common cause," I say. "I don't believe we should call ourselves that. If we must give ourselves a name, then let it be something else. I seek to unite all free people of this realm to bring down those who would oppress us."

"What should we call ourselves, then?" asks a witch with wild black hair.

I think for a moment. "Tempest," I decide. "A name to strike fear into our enemies like echoing thunder. We shall ride across this land like a raging storm. We shall strike down those who oppose us like cracking lightning. We shall tear apart their strongholds like furious winds. And we shall wash away their traces like torrential rains."

"Tempest," she says, licking her lips and grinning. "I like the sound of that."

"Let's see if you still like it when I'm done laying down the ground rules," I say with a smirk. "We're here to conquer the world, not destroy it. That means we need to minimize casualties. No raids on those who _aren't_ opposing us. No bloodshed just for the sake of bloodshed. Absolutely _no_ killing children. If you have to disable one, shoot to stun. Yes, that includes Mudbloods. The children are our future, still young and malleable. If we wish to attain true victory, we need to indoctrinate them into our way of life."

"As you might have noticed, Bellatrix, he's not actually a child," Tom tells her, almost sounding bored.

"Complicated," I say.

"So I gather," Bellatrix says. "Polyjuice, Metamorphmagus, or something else entirely?"

"Time Magic," I explain.

"You're from the future?" Bellatrix asks.

I chuckle. "Far more than that. The future isn't set in stone, regardless. And well that it's not. If the stream of time were immutable, it would mean that no one truly has free will." I start pacing at the head of the hall as I go on. "It also means I'm immortal. Not even the Killing Curse can truly stop me. I can afford to play the long game. I was willing to wait until I'd finished school, go into politics, take over the world the slow way. Until I uncovered deep-rooted corruption that would have made those plans difficult to impossible. Not without getting my hands bloody."

"You thought you could take over the world _peacefully_?" Bellatrix says incredulously.

I shrug. "I'd have liked to rule an _intact_ world. I'll have to settle for a slightly battered one. Perhaps more than slightly battered once we're done ripping out anything I don't like. Which brings me to another point. I don't like slavery. Anyone I catch abusing house-elves gets Crucioed. Got it?"

"Er… right then," Bellatrix says, a little confused.

"Now, I haven't gotten into the incentives for helping me yet." I grin widely. "Aside from, obviously, your continued freedom. With Time Magic, I can restore your youth and grant you immortality as well. Provided, of course, that I'm very happy with your accomplishments and your loyalty to me."

Bellatrix's eyes widen, and she looks to Tom. "Can he do that?"

"Just look at the two of us," Tom replies.

"I'm going to go confer with our allies who managed to stay out of prison," I say.

Unspoken is the question of whether Tom can handle this or not. Of course he can. I trust him to know what he's doing here. Regardless of the way the bond worked out, it doesn't really matter to me who is whose lieutenant.

I take the Floo to Malfoy Manor. Lucius has assembled a group of Death Eaters in his main hall. Some of them look nervous at being here, while others seem overly excited at the prospect.

"Harry Potter?" says one of them in confusion. He's a grizzled older man.

"Darth Revan," I correct him.

" _You're_ the one we're supposed to follow?" he continues incredulously. "I thought a real Dark Lord would be here. I heard something about Grindelwald, and something else about Voldemort. Are you working for them?"

I shrug. "I'm working _with_ them."

"Nott," Lucius says. "He _is_ the one who requested this meeting."

"Requested Gellert request Lucius to request this meeting," I say.

"I'm not taking orders from this kid," says a man with a hook nose. "Not even if he calls himself a Dark Lord and kidnaps Mudbloods."

"Lucius," I say. "Please remove the Obliviation you performed on them Yule before last."

"Yes, my lord," Lucius says.

With a wave of his wand, eyes widen around the room as they remember how I killed Yaxley that night.

"Well, fuck," utters the hook-nosed man.

"Now do you realize what you're dealing with here, Macnair?" Lucius asks.

"Three Dark Lords have united to bring down our oppressors and conquer the world side-by-side," I say. "With our wands held high and crossed together, none can stand against us. We will liberate this realm and bring in a new regime of power."

"Fine, you caught Yaxley off-guard, but how do we know you can really deliver?" Macnair asks.

I hold up the Elder Wand. "See this? I wound up dueling Dumbledore this morning before coming over here."

"Is that really Dumbledore's wand?" Nott asks.

Macnair squints at it. "Yeah, maybe. I'm no wand expert."

"I didn't kill him, but I think I've made my point. I had no desire to disrupt Hogwarts too badly at this time. They're standing against the Ministry as well, in their own way, and I have allies inside. I'll reiterate what I told the Azkaban escapees. You are not to harm any children."

I run over the same ground rules and benefits that I'd offered the other group. At one point, I wanted to keep quiet my ability to wipe away old age. Now, though? I want to stave off questions about the apparent age of those declaring themselves their lords and provide incentives for loyalty. It occurs to me that as much as I can bless people with youth, I can probably curse them with age as well. I'm no longer worried about people lining up at my gates looking for renewed youth. If that sways their loyalty to me rather than those who would oppose me, then so be it. I will cast the Ritual of Renewal as many times as necessary, or a lesser version that does not require so much preparation if I can manage it.

"Now," I go on. "Who has access to the Ministry? Who works there and in what departments, or has trustworthy contacts within? We've got plans to make."


	14. Allies

When I get back to Caer Danas, Gellert is sitting in front of the telly, a pile of letters beside him.

"The post came," Gellert says. "Bole congratulates you on finally getting rid of that annoying Mudblood."

"Have you been reading my post?" I ask.

"Yep!" Gellert says brightly. "Self-appointed spontaneous secretary."

I snicker. "Whatever. What else was there?"

"Hermione sent us the latest homework," Gellert says. "I guess she figures we should still be doing schoolwork even if we're not in school?"

I laugh softly. "That's Hermione for you."

"Luna wants to know if you'll still be coming to her house for Equinox," Gellert continues. "And why you weren't wearing your scarf. She's very concerned about wrackspurts. Also she seemed to expect I'd be reading it. And she calls me Phoenix. Hmm. Darth Phoenix?"

"It sounds less terrible than Darth Gellert," I say. "Sure, why not?"

"I'll have to shake down Rispy for those lightsaber parts he said he'd prepared," Gellert says. "Can't make excuses about me swinging it around kids anymore."

"Yeah, true," I say, chuckling.

"Also, Rotfang Conspiracy," Gellert adds. "The Ministry is _definitely_ controlled by the Rotfang Conspiracy. We're going to need to track down their true leaders, the ones behind the smokescreen."

"I've got former Death Eaters attempting to infiltrate any strongholds the Aurors set up," I say. "I've named us Tempest, by the way."

"Ohh, cool," Gellert says. "Do we get a neat lightning bolt symbol?"

"I really don't see the need to brand my followers," I say. "Seems like a stupid idea."

"Point," Gellert says. "One more letter." He holds it up. "Last but not least, it's from Falk. He wants to arrange a meeting on neutral ground at your soonest convenience. You pick the time and place."

"I take it from your paraphrasing that the actual correspondence contained more profanity," I comment.

"It's Falk," Gellert says. "'Nuff said."

"So long as you're playing secretary, can you drop him a line to meet me at the old pub in Knockturn Alley at midnight tonight?" I ask.

"Only if I can come along."

"The letter didn't request to meet me alone, right?"

Gellert shakes his head. "He probably didn't really need to. If you were intending to betray and ambush him, you wouldn't politely listen to that sort of request anyway."

"Seen Sirius?" I ask.

"In his room," Gellert says. "He was going to get Remus up to speed himself."

"Great," I say. "I've already repeated myself enough today. On that note, I'm going to take a quick nap."

* * *

Now rested, I gently knock on the door to Sirius' room, and enter when invited. Sirius and Remus are seated inside.

"Harry," Remus says. "Sirius filled me in."

I nod. "Mind if I sit? I just took a nap and I'm _still_ kind of tired."

"Be my guest," Sirius says. "It's your house, after all."

"It's our house, so far as I"m concerned," I say, sinking into a chair. "I just got done dealing with the others we liberated yesterday."

"Ugh," Sirius says. "I know you were set on getting them all out of there, but some of them I don't like the thought of being out and free to do whatever they like."

"Don't worry," I say. "I gave them some explicit warnings that I wouldn't tolerate any bullshit from them."

"Do you think they'll listen to you?" Sirius asks. "Well, I guess if they didn't listen to you, they'd still listen to _him_. Do you think _he'll_ listen to you?"

"Yes," I say.

"Can you be sure of that, Harry?" Remus says. "I don't want you to get hurt here, and I'm afraid of what you're getting yourself into."

I sigh and put my hand on my forehead. "Look, guys, I appreciate the concern. But I seriously _am_ in control here."

"What, does that mean we should be blaming you for us having our memories modified?" Sirius asks.

"Yes," I say flatly. "It wasn't my idea, but I'll take responsibility for it. I could certainly have forced him to make another option, but chose not to. It doesn't mean I liked it, though."

"You don't need to take responsibility for other people's actions," Remus says.

"I don't need to do anything," I say. "But that is my choice. If the soldiers under an officer's command make a mistake, they'll need to take reasonable penalty for it. If the officer ignores or allows their wrongdoing, or worse, orders it, then it's that officer's responsibility."

"Are you saying that you're taking those Death Eaters as your _soldiers_?" Sirius says. "Harry, they're terrible people!"

"Yes, they are," I agree. "And I _hate_ them. But I broke them out of prison, so I've warned them to behave. I may have threatened to Crucio them if they're mean to children or house-elves."

Sirius snorts in some small amount of amusement at that.

"What do you intend them to do now, though?" Remus asks. "They're fugitives, and even the ones still sane and stable enough to be capable of integrating with society again would need to avoid the wizarding world to avoid simply being recaptured."

"I'm going to overthrow the Ministry," I say.

"Are you really going to start a war?" Remus asks.

"Absolutely," I say.

"Tried to tell you," Sirius says with a shrug. "I guess you could do worse than throwing my dear cousin Bellatrix into the middle of the ones who locked me up and then standing back to watch the fireworks. I don't want to be involved, though. Some of those Aurors might have been my friends, or my friends' family members."

"I gave them fair warning," I say. "Hopefully some of them will at least stay out of the way."

Remus sighs. "So long as you're going to war for the right reasons. I never became a real Auror because of being a werewolf, but I always had to question what sort of people would use Dementors as their watchdogs. Any werewolf could recognize a powerful bane spirit right off the bat, and smell the stink of Wyrm corruption off of those who work with them."

Sirius grunts. "It's easy to ignore them when you're not in the middle of them. I don't think most people realize what they're really like."

"If you like, I can introduce you to some werewolves," Remus says. "That's where I'd gone, after Sirius got arrested. They'd certainly prove a better army than your Death Eaters."

"Really?" I say. "That would be great."

I consider, once I'm in contact with them, that I could ask them for help trying to find Drakanna. But no, it's too dangerous to look for Drakanna openly until Jez'kai has been dealt with. If he heard I was looking for it, if he even knew it existed, it could be disastrous.

"Now, you're probably imagining some wolves who frequent what patches of wilderness are left in the world in this age," Remus says. "But I'm talking about Bone Gnawers. My own tribe. They tend to live in cities. There's another 'civilized' tribe, the Glass Walkers, but they're more inclined toward technology." Remus looks at me and gives a wry grin. "And, judging from the way your eyes just lit up, you wouldn't mind being introduced to them, either. Right. We'll be able to find some Bone Gnawers in Cardiff, but we'll have to go to London for the Glass Walkers."

"When?" I ask.

"I can let the Bone Gnawers know you're coming," Remus says. "They're pretty casual about things. I'm not quite as in close touch with the Glass Walkers, though. I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks," I say. "That'd be great."

"Werewolves," Sirius says with a grunt. "Definitely a better army than the Death Eaters, if you can get them on your side. I say go for it. Worst that happens is you annoy them somehow and get torn to shreds."

"Yes, they'll just kill you quickly," Remus says with a smirk. "They won't torture and corrupt you like the Black Spiral Dancers would."

I laugh softly. "Rest assured, I'll happily kill any Black Spiral Dancers on sight that I can get away with. I won't work with Dementors, and I certainly won't work with _them_. There's some lines I will not cross."

"You're working with Death Eaters, though," Sirius points out.

"I'm not working 'with' them," I say. "I'm pointing them in the general direction of something I don't mind destroyed. They're no friends of mine, but at least they're human."

"Some of them are doubtless Wyrm-corrupted, though," Remus says.

"What does that even mean?" I say. "You explained it a bit before, but beyond being something like Dark Side corruption, I'm not sure the extent of it."

"They do permanent nasty things to their souls," Sirius says. "If they weren't messed up before, they're definitely messed up after. Bellatrix I know for sure did it. Well. I say 'permanent', but apparently the Ritual of Purification can fix it? Damn, Tom _did_ do that ritual. No wonder he was screaming so much."

"It was his suggestion," I say.

"Yeah…" Sirius says thoughtfully. "Most of them probably wouldn't be willing. I'd suggest just killing them when you're done with them. It'd be a mercy. Provided you can't perform some other miracle and redeem them all with the power of love or something."

"I really don't want to think about that regarding Bellatrix," I say, making a face.

* * *

Falk is already seated at a table when I arrive, back to a wall in a shadowy corner. I order butterbeers for myself and Gellert, and we go to take a seat across from him.

"Fancy seeing you here, Boltwood," Falk says. "Don't look very kidnapped to me."

I snicker. "Yeah, you might have guessed it was a ruse."

The barkeep comes over and says, "One butterbeer for Darth Revan, and one for a completely not kidnapped Muggleborn."

I grin. "Thanks."

Once he walks away, Falk lowers his voice. "You trust them here?"

"Not so much that I don't keep privacy spells up," I say.

"Ah," Falk says, speaking aloud again. "Smart. They recognized you both, though?"

"It's my favorite pub," I say.

Gellert hums, "Where everybody knows your name…"

Falk ignores him. "So, wanna fill me in on what's really going on here?"

"It's kind of complicated," I say.

"We're taking down the Ministry," Gellert says. "Because they're bad people."

"Thank you for that summary." I smirk.

"Fair enough," Falk says. "Can't argue with that sentiment. I'm guessing you broke out Azkaban to get allies to help with that?"

"No, we broke out Azkaban because it was an awful place and I couldn't stand leaving anyone there, even bad people," I say.

"Also fair enough," Falk says. "Best to deny the fucking Dementors their food. You might want some more reliable allies, though. Especially if the fucking Black Spiral Dancers start causing problems again."

"You have any recommendations?" I ask. "Other vampires?"

Falk snorts. "No. I wouldn't recommend those to anyone. I was thinking werewolves. I have some contacts with the Glass Walkers. They make my equipment."

"Really?" I say. "My werewolf friend offered to get me in touch with the Bone Gnawers and Glass Walkers."

Falk nods. "Good choice in allies. The Glass Walkers are solid, and you'd probably appreciate the Bone Gnawers' love of freedom. Just don't let either of them fuck with you. They might respond better to you as a fellow shapeshifter than a mere human mage, too, even if they're not as fucking prejudiced against either as other tribes."

"Wait a minute," I say. "Fellow shapeshifter?"

Falk snorts in amusement. "You mean you didn't know?"

"How in the fuck can you _tell_?" I wonder.

Falk gestures vaguely at me. "It's in your aura. It's too bright."

"Wouldn't that just mean I'm powerful?"

Falk shakes his head. "Nah, not like this. That's not how vampiric sight—Auspex, it's called—works. Maybe some mages can see 'magical signatures' or whatever. That's a different sort of ability."

"If he's a shapeshifter, then what can he turn into?" wonders Gellert.

"Can't tell," Falk says. "I figured you must have known and either wanted to hide it or just had a form that was fucking useless in combat like a rat or something."

"Do Animagi look any different to you?" I ask. "They can change shape, too."

"Totally different," Falk says. "Animagi have to learn it. True shapeshifters are born with it. Animagi don't pass on the ability to their kids. True shapeshifters do."

"I probably knew how to change shape once and forgot it, along with a great many other things," I say.

"I couldn't give you any advice on how to reclaim it, but maybe your fuzzy friends could help with that," Falk suggests.

"I'm surprised I've gotten as much support as I have, really," I say.

"Ministry's not very popular lately," Falk says. "Just watch your back. Don't let your guard down. Just because you've made a few friends doesn't mean you don't still have enemies on every side. Don't know why Dumbledore attacked you, though. What did you say to him? I'm guessing he must've overreacted to your showmanship."

"He didn't trust my motivations," I say. "He wanted a fight and wouldn't back down, and neither would I. I didn't want to hurt him, though. So I improvised."

"Improvised so hard that you already had traps set up for him," Falk says, looking at me knowingly. "You had to have had foreknowledge of that. How many times did it take you to win?"

I shrug, not answering, and just casually drain my mug of butterbeer.

"Right, well, minus a million points to Slytherin for fighting the fucking Headmaster," Falk says. "And plus a million for actually winning. You couldn't still hang out in my classes, though? I'm sure there's stuff I'm covering you haven't run across yet in whichever futures you've seen."

"Dumbledore doesn't want either of us in school," I say.

"Can understand you, I guess, but what's he got against Boltwood?" Falk asks.

"He found out I was Grindelwald in another life," Gerard says. "He wasn't impressed that I wasn't causing trouble this time around and was just trying to settle into a new life."

"Beyond just being a little annoying?" I put in.

Falk snorts. "The man sure does love to hold a fucking grudge, doesn't he. He could give some fucking bloodsuckers a run for their money. Fine, how about night classes at another place, then?"

"What, on top of your school classes?" I ask.

Falk shrugs. "Hogwarts doesn't have classes in the middle of the night, 'cept for fucking Astronomy, and those students might as well be asleep for how much attention they seem to pay to their classes. Easier to be awake at night than in the fucking day anyway."

"Things might wind up being a bit hectic in the near future, though," I say. "Not that I'll complain. It just seems like the middle of a war isn't the best time for classes."

"It's abso-fucking-lutely the best time for classes," Falk retorts. "So long as you don't fucking tire yourself out so much practicing that you can't still fight."

"Point taken," I say. "I can tell my Floo entrance to let you through. The address is Caer Danas."

"You're not fucking keeping those former Death Eaters there, are you?" Falk asks.

"Hell no," I reply.

"I'll be by tomorrow night, then," Falk says, standing.

I toss a galleon to the barkeep, and the three of us head out toward the nearest Floo point. That might be part of the reason I like that pub. Exactly because it doesn't have a Floo. Well, if it did, it would probably have to have a name, and nobody I've talked to around Knockturn Alley seems to be able to remember any point in which the old pub had a name. Either way, without a Floo, people aren't just dropping in through the fireplace. They have to actually use the door.

On the way there, Falk holds up a hand, and we stop and go quiet. He peers off into a narrow side alley between two buildings. Three werewolves, not paying attention to us. I haven't seen many werewolves, but their long ears and deformed limbs distinctly remind me of the Black Spiral Dancers. They're hunched over, and slurping and smacking sounds echo down the alley. I can't see what they're eating from here, though.

"Spirals," Falk whispers, confirming my suspicions.

My hand moves to my lightsaber.

Falk puts his hand on my shoulder. "What did I tell you about not going toe-to-toe with a werewolf?"

Gellert pulls out a lightsaber and ignites it, a fiery orange blade springing forth. "But I have this lovely new toy I wanted to try out."

Falk hisses. "Put that away, before they notice."

Gellert reluctantly puts the lightsaber away.

Falk gestures us over toward a stack of crates, and uses them to climb up onto the roof of one of the buildings adjacent to the alley. We follow him up. He starts pulling out a gun larger than I would have thought would fit in his longcoat.

"Three of them, three of us," Falk says. "Do you two know a spell that can take out a werewolf in one hit?"

"Killing Curse," Gellert replies casually.

Falk grunts. "Yeah, that'd do it. Can you both cast it?"

I hesitate.

"Forget whether it's fucking 'Unforgivable', or even practical," Falk says quietly. "You fucking catch them by surprise and they can't dodge. Besides, it's only Unforgivable to use on humans. They're not fucking human. And that's _if_ you care about the fucking laws of the Ministry you're going to war with."

"I can cast it," I assure him. "I think."

"Oh for love of fuck…" Falk mutters.

"If you need a refresher, the incantation is 'Avada Kedavra'," Gellert says cheerfully.

"I know _how_ to cast it," I say, rolling my eyes. I pull out the Elder Wand. "Let's do this already, before they hear us."

"They can't hear us," Gellert reminds me. "Privacy charm's still up."

We move to the edge of the roof over the werewolves. From this angle, I can see what they're eating. A man, middle-aged and in shabby clothes. Nobody I can recognize at a glance from here, at least, but it still gets my blood boiling. We line up and take aim at our targets.

"On three," Falk says. "One, two, three!"

" _Avada Kedavra!_ " Gellert and I cast in unison with Falk's gun blasting beside us.

Three werewolves drop dead simultaneously, two of them without a mark on them and one with a bullet wound in the head.

"Good job," Falk says. He scans the area to make sure there's no other hostiles in sight, but doesn't put his gun away just yet.

I wonder if anyone might have heard us, and am glad that Falk's gun seems to be charmed to be relatively quiet, especially considering it was right next to me when it went off. We climb back down and around to examine the scene more closely. The three werewolves have reverted to human form.

"Poor bastard," Falk says, examining the werewolves' meal. "Normal, sane werewolves don't fucking eat people like this. It's forbidden by the Litany they follow."

Gellert rifles around their possessions and pockets a handful of coins. "No identifying belongings, on either the werewolves or the victim."

"Probably a bum," Falk says. "Nobody will even fucking notice him missing, most likely. Makes you wonder how many people just like him fucking vanish all the time without anyone the wiser. Knockturn Alley's a fucking great place for all the things that go bump in the night. There's bloodsuckers here, too, a demon or two, and that's just fucking scratching the surface."

"Well, that's three less bumpy things in this night, at least," Gellert says.

We head back into the pub and approach the barkeep.

"Hey," I say. "We just killed three werewolves out back not far from here. They were eating a guy. Didn't recognize them or the guy."

The barkeep makes a face. "Black Spiral Dancers again?"

"Yep," Falk spits.

"Can you make sure it's taken care of?" I ask, pulling out my money pouch. "Identify them if possible and clean up? Before anyone shows up who might care?"

The barkeep accepts the galleons I offer. "Consider it done."

Once outside again, Falk asks, "The pub doesn't have a name. Does the fucking barkeep have a name at least?"

"Everyone calls him 'Barkeep'," Gellert says.

* * *

The next morning at breakfast, I mention what Falk said about my aura.

"That's interesting," Remus says. "A shapeshifter yourself, huh? And you had no idea?"

"None," I say. "I can assume that I did know at some point in one alternate future or another. Falk suggested that the werewolves might be able to help."

"Hmm." Remus drains his cup of tea and sets it aside, and looks over me thoughtfully. "Are there times you feel uncontrollable rage, well beyond being simply angry about something? A sort of supernatural fury?"

I blink. "Yes, absolutely. I always thought it was just, you know, 'the Dark Side', so to speak."

Remus chuckles and shakes his head. "Not the same thing at all. Don't confuse that rage with the depredations of the Wyrm. It's a gift from Luna."

"Lovegood?" I ask in confusion.

Remus laughs softly. "The moon, Harry. Luna is the goddess of the moon. Are you vulnerable to silver? Do you have the ability to rapidly regenerate wounds?"

"Probably not," I say. "Although given the amount of time weirdness, things like that might just not be active because I haven't changed yet in _this_ life?"

"True," Remus says. "Your soul knows it's not merely human, but your body hasn't made its First Change yet. Difference is that _your_ soul seems to have zigzagged its way through space and time."

"Can't shapeshifters sense one another somehow?" I ask. "A vampire noticed it but you didn't?"

"While there may be some Gifts that would help with that, I'm afraid I don't possess them," Remus explains.

I pause thoughtfully, frowning. "Wait. _Wait wait wait_. Do you think Jez'kai realized it? The way he tried to recruit me?"

"That… is a distinct possibility. And a disturbing one."

"Yeah…" I murmur. "Have you figured out how you're going to introduce me to the Bone Gnawers without spending a whole week trying to explain the 'complicated'? Falk said he could put in a reference for me to the Glass Walkers."

"That could be helpful, yes," Remus says. "And to that, I have no idea. While I dislike how you lot lied to me and Sirius… after hearing _everything_ —and if that's not everything, I can't guess what else there might be—I can understand it, I suppose. You've been operating on a completely different playing field, as if you were playing Quidditch while the Muggle football team played below you, confused and half-oblivious."

I snicker softly. "It's probably not relevant to tell people 'everything' for the most part, yeah. That I'm a Time Mage, though, is still the best explanation for a good deal of the weirdness around me."

"I'm not entirely convinced that your time powers are 'magic', per se," Remus says.

"Why not?" I wonder. "Isn't everything magic? Or… the will of the Force, or whatever?"

Remus chuckles. "The latter might be more accurate in some ways. You said you don't actually need a ritual? That you would just return to life before you died regardless of anything you did?"

"Yeah," I say. "I guess when you put it that way…"

"More of a blessing or gift, than anything you actually cast yourself," Remus says. "Remember, though. You might think of everything as magic, but werewolves don't think of their gifts as magical, and I'm sure vampires like your teacher don't consider their disciplines magical. They may be offended by the comparison."

"Noted," I say.

"Shall we head down to Cardiff and meet a couple of my acquaintances, then?" Remus asks. "It might be best if we go alone."

"I'm going too," Rispy says, startling me for a moment.

"Rispy?" Remus asks.

"Someone's got to watch his back," Rispy says. "Besides, I'm not human. And nobody's going to mistake me for a slave when I'm wearing armor and carrying a blade."

"Very well," Remus says. "I don't imagine that anything I could say would dissuade you anyway."

It's a bit chilly out, so I pull on my scarf. The three of us head out from and climb into Remus' maroon car, and set out. This will be a new one on me. I'm not sure how to deal with werewolves or convince them to help me. Judging by the ones I've seen and fought, they're not to be taken lightly.

"Also remember," Remus says, "we werewolves call ourselves 'Garou'. I generally just use the term 'werewolves' around wizards, but if we're going amongst other Garou, calling them 'werewolves' might make you look ignorant."

"Also noted," I say. "Although I _am_ pretty ignorant."

Remus chuckles. "It'll make me look lax in educating you."

I grin wryly. "No comment."

"Right, I will need to educate you more myself when we get a chance, especially considering you're apparently a shapeshifter yourself."

Remus brings us to what seems like it must be the worst part of Cardiff. The buildings become increasingly shabby, into abandoned warehouses and condemned apartment buildings. He drives into a carpark that contains several old cars, some of them in better shape than others, and a few trailers.

"We're here," he says, turning off the engine. "Buried Cable Sept, in all its glory."

We climb out of the car, and Remus leads the way over toward an overgrown park. A number of tents are scattered about the area, both off-the-shelf and makeshift. People are scattered about, clustered up in groups, most of them seeming unbothered by being outside in February. Quite a number of dogs are here, too, lounging around, playing, sniffing about. One large yellow dog comes up to me, sniffs my crotch, and then saunters off. Remus approaches an unkempt man dozing in a hammock hung between two trees.

"Sleeping through morning again?" Remus comments.

"Just resting my eyes," says the man, opening an eye. "Welcome back, Moony. And who's this you've brought here?"

"I'm Harry Potter," I say. "Although some have called me the Stormseeker."

" _The_ Stormseeker?" the man repeats with a chuckle. "Sure, I'll spell your name with a 'the' if you want. I'm Dafydd Reese, also known as Nine-Toes. So, what's up with the kid, Moony?"

"It's complicated," I say.

"You always say that," Remus says.

Nine-Toes snorts in amusement. "Well, I'm going to need more beer for complicated."

"That can be arranged," I say with a grin.

"By you?" Nine-Toes says, grinning back at me. "Have you even hit puberty yet? How old are you?"

"Twelve," I reply. "Also, complicated."

Rispy puts a crate full of bottles next to one of the trees. "Can do you one better than beer. Firewhiskey."

"Hoo, that's the good stuff," Nine-Toes says, grabbing a bottle. "And who might you be?"

"Rispy," the house-elf replies.

"Hanging out with elves now, Moony?" Nine-Toes says. "This one doesn't look like a slave like those wizards of yours keep."

"I pretend to be Harry's slave so said wizards leave me the fuck alone," Rispy says. "But I'm a freeborn elf."

Nine-Toes nods, then looks to me. "Wait, are you _that_ Harry Potter?"

I smirk. "Nah, I'm some totally different Harry Potter who just happens to look exactly like him."

Funny thing about the truth is that if you phrase it right, it sounds like a joke.

Nine-Toes pops open a bottle of firewhiskey and takes a long drink. "Well, take a seat. For a crate of firewhiskey, I'll listen to whatever stupid complicated thing you've got."

"Okay, well, where to begin," I murmur. "For starters, I'm not exactly twelve years old. I have some sort of time powers that I don't fully understand."

"Well, that's one explanation," Nine-Toes says. "So how old are you really?"

"I don't even know," I say. "I've had some sort of amnesia. More specifically, a persistent Obliviation curse that I only recently managed to remove."

"Damned wizards sometimes, I swear," Nine-Toes mutters.

"I'm apparently a shapeshifter, although I don't remember it," I say. "A vampire identified me as such. I'm sure I once knew how to change shape, but at this point, I have no idea. I don't even know what I might be able to turn into."

"Hmm. Yeah, we could probably help with that," Nine-Toes says.

"What's worse, the Black Spiral Dancers appear to have taken an interest in me," I say. "That bastard, Jez'kai, tried to recruit me. I told him fuck no."

"Ugh, _him_." Nine-Toes spits. "Smart move. But now he knows your face and your scent. Yeah. That could be problematic."

"My friends and I killed three of them last night in London. Caught them off-guard." I grit my teeth. "They were eating a homeless man."

Nine-Toes makes a face. "Fucking Spirals. That was a good thing you did there. It's always the homeless who suffer the worst when ilk like that show up."

A large shaggy dog slips around past me, sticks its muzzle into the crate and pulls out a bottle with its mouth.

"Damnit, Twice-Bitten," Nine-Toes mutters. "If you're going to swipe my whiskey, you could at least drink it in homid form."

The dog makes a sound resembling laughter, puts the bottle down, and shifts into the form of a bright-eyed red-haired young man. He grabs the bottle and opens it up, and takes a drink.

"Who's the kid?" Twice-Bitten asks.

"Little lost cub called the Stormseeker," Nine-Toes says. "With a 'the' and everything. Seems there's been trouble with the Black Spiral Dancers lately. Get the word out and warn everyone to be on their guard."

"Shit," Twice-Bitten says. "Right, I'll do that, and _then_ drink this." He runs off.

I watch him go, then look around the park at all the various dogs thoughtfully before turning back to Nine-Toes. "So, the dogs…"

"Garou or kinfolk, all of them, yep," Nine-Toes says. "Got a couple metis cubs hidden away, too, but we've got to keep those out of sight of the ordinary folk until their First Change. Can't have any poor hobo catching a glimpse of some wolf-man monster and piss himself before writing it off as the drink."

"I didn't realize Garou could be dogs," I say.

Nine-Toes snorts in amusement. "I once heard of a Bone Gnawer sept over in the States, forget where exactly, who were pretty outraged over the idea that they had _dog_ blood in them. It was kind of funny on the one hand, and really bloody insulting to dogs on the other hand. Every dog has the spirit of a wolf inside. You'd think a Bone Gnawer would know better."

"So, how does it work, anyway?" I ask. "The shapeshifting thing. For all I know, I could turn into a duck, but I'd like to find out regardless."

"Even a duck can fly," Nine-Toes says with a grin. "Most shapeshifters have their First Change sometime between ten and twenty-five. Usually in the teens."

"It just happens naturally?" I ask.

"Usually, yeah," Nine-Toes says. "Now, I don't know how that'd relate to all your time stuff. That probably throws a monkey wrench in things."

"It tends to do that, yeah," I say.

"Either way, whatever your mind and soul think, your body is still twelve. You might change on your own anytime in the next ten years or so and nothing would be out of the ordinary."

"And if it doesn't manifest by that point?" I ask.

"Then it could probably use a nudge," Nine-Toes says. "I wouldn't worry about it just yet. You've got a long road ahead of you, and most likely it will trigger at some point in the next few years."

I nod. "Guess I'll figure it out eventually, one way or another, then. Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Nine-Toes says. "But now that you know, keep your mind open during times of strong emotion. The wolf will come to you down a storm of rage. Or the duck. Whichever." He winks at me.

"Well… I guess I _am_ the Stormseeker," I say.

 _I am the eye of the storm_.

Was that always the key?

"I've had _plenty_ of rage without changing shape," I say. "The gods-damned Ministry of Magic seems absolutely intent upon infuriating me."

"Ugh," Nine-Toes groans. "What have those wankers been doing this time?"

"They sent Padfoot to Azkaban again," Remus says.

" _Again_?" Nine-Toes says incredulously. "Fuck's sake, Moony, you and your pack are alright, but those damned wizards are messed up. Even the ones who aren't directly responsible for imprisoning people in a dungeon full of banes."

"We broke him out the next day," I say.

Remus grins crookedly. "While I came down here thinking it was hopeless…"

"This sounds like a story," Nine-Toes says. "Bet you've got plenty of stories to tell, time-travel related amnesia notwithstanding."

"He could talk your ear off with them," Rispy says. "He's been getting better about summarizing, at least. Still has a torrid love affair going with adverbs."

"This I have to hear," Nine-Toes says. "Mind an audience?"

I grin. "Always glad for whoever will listen."

"You have _no idea_ the level of showmanship this guy gets up to," Rispy says. "He can _never_ do anything quietly."

I laugh and hold up my hands. "What can I say?"

"At least a million words or two," Rispy says.

"Maybe you're a Galliard at heart, then," Nine-Toes says. At my confused look, he adds, "A bard, lad. Born under the gibbous moon."

Remus looks thoughtful for a moment. "Come to think, he _was_ born a few days after the full moon."

"Well, there you go, then," Nine-Toes says.

He puts aside the empty bottle and picks up the crate, and walks over toward the center of the park, where a few old benches sit around a firepit. I follow along after him, and he gestures to us to take a seat.

"Who's up for storytime?" Nine-Toes calls out.

"And lunch," Rispy says cheerfully.

"You're buying stuff with my money again, aren't you," I say with a grin.

"Always." Rispy pops away.

"Handy trick," Nine-Toes comments.

"I never have any idea whether he's even _around_ or not," I say.

By the time Rispy reappears with savory chicken, a small crowd has gathered. Around a dozen assorted children, older folks, and dogs. A few more of them drift in once they realize there's free food, as well.

"Got a new friend here today," Nine-Toes says, gesturing to him. "The Stormseeker, he calls himself." He can never quite say that with a straight face. "And from the sounds of things, he's got some stories to tell."

He nods to me, and I take my cue. I'm not sure where to start at first, because the story just seems _too big_ , and I've got too many holes in it. Starting at the beginning isn't a useful thought when I don't remember the beginning, nor most of what followed.

Ah, but I do remember the moment when everything changed. The day Sedder killed me in Torn Elkandu, when I was truly ten years old for the first time, and discovered that I can't die. So that I tell them. Telling a story certainly seems like a better way to get across a world of complications than just attempting to explain them. It often seems like the tangled mess doesn't make sense without everything that came before. Which is why a lot of my life doesn't make sense without remembering what came before.

As I'm recounting how Sedder killed me over and over, how he tortured my family to death, how Sardill spoke all mysterious and enigmatic, I realize that the gaps are starting to fill in on their own. Details spring to mind that hadn't quite been solid before. The scene expands beyond the brief dream I'd had once, pieced together with fragments of wispy memory. I _remember_.

"I hated the thought of leaving them behind," I say. "I wanted to fight. I wanted to protect them. But I was too young and weak. And so, to that end, I sought out places around the multiverse where I could learn and grow, so that one day, I might be able to return across space and time in order to stop the Dark Elkandu and save my family."

"Was that when you came here?" asks Twice-Bitten.

I chuckle. "The first time, yeah. I've learned that people often have counterparts in different universes. My friend Rispy here has wound up being many different sorts of beings across the multiverse. In this universe, my counterpart was Harry Potter. Sadly, the fate of my family in this universe was no better than it was in my last. But I have Time on my side."

A flurry of curious questions threatens to overwhelm me before Nine-Toes holds up his hands to try to quiet them a bit. "I'm sure the Stormseeker will tell more stories if you ask nicely."

"Much as I'd like to regale you all day, I'm afraid I'm going to have to skip ahead to the past few months, for the moment," I say.

I tell them about how the Black Spiral Dancers attacked Hogsmeade on Samhain, and how I used a time ritual to stop them. Two young children gape at me, mesmerized, as I describe the battle with Jez'kai. I tell them about how the Ministry sent Dementors into Hogsmeade two weeks ago because Jez'kai had been sighted there. I pause, trying to figure out how to explain what got Sirius sent to Azkaban while maintaining some level of respectful privacy. How can I explain what sort of impact Azkaban really had without the context?

"You mentioned Azkaban earlier," Nine-Toes presses.

"Yeah," I say, licking my lips. As if on cue, another plate of chicken appears in my hands. I smirk over at Rispy. "I thought you didn't like doing chores."

Rispy laughs. "I've never catered a Garou barbecue before. Go on. Tell your story."

"It's your story too," I say with a grin. "Alright."

Without getting in to who Tom really is—I'll happily tell them later, but that's a _long_ story—I tell them how Tom and Sirius had a lover's quarrel, resulting in Sirius going and getting arrested. I deflect a request for details by saying that it's personal, and they back off. Then I tell them how Tom, Rispy, and I walked into Azkaban and freed the lot.

I look down at the ground. "Putting Padfoot in prison was the last straw." I raise my eyes. "I'm taking the fight to the Ministry of Magic. No one fucks with my friends and gets away with it."

I run my eyes over the people gathered around me. The food is gone now and I have their rapt attention, for the moment at least. I don't know if they'll help me, but this is the best opportunity I have right now.

"I'm beset upon by enemies on all sides. Black Spiral Dancers, the Ministry of Magic, a small army of Dementors, and I don't even know what else. And they don't just threaten me, but countless innocents. I'm not too proud to admit that I can't do this by myself. I need help. I need allies. I need friends."

Nine-Toes brushes off his hands. "Well, I can't speak for everyone, but I'm sure there'd be those of us who would be willing to lend a hand, or a paw, as warriors or spies. Can't have the forces of the Wyrm gaining an upper hand here."

I bow my head toward him. "Thank you."

I'd really much rather have them as allies than the former Death Eaters. But I have less hold over them than the wizards, because of Lucius, Tom, and Gellert. And yet, if it weren't for those, I might have other allies amongst the wizards instead. The name Harry Potter carries a fair bit of weight behind it.

I wonder what things would have been like if I hadn't alienated Dumbledore. If I hadn't been so desperate to find Tom. That's a question for another life, though. I still believe it was worth it.


	15. Love and Strife

"Wands out!" Falk barks. "I want to see which of you can cast a Patronus."

The entire household, elves included, is arrayed in the main hall. Dobby and Rispy are mostly just watching at the moment, but it always seems like Rispy is casually guarding all entrances to any room he happens to be standing in at any given moment. It's the first time Sirius and Tom have been in the same room since the Azkaban breakout.

"Expecto Patronum," I say, thinking of eternity and summoning my dragon Patronus.

Tom brings out his dog, and Remus conjures a shimmering wolf. Sirius and Gellert don't manage more than wisps of light, however.

Falk gives the two of them a critical look. "At least you got it to make a bit of fucking light. How the fuck old are you two really?"

"Old enough to know better," Sirius replies with a smirk.

Falk snorts softly. "Find your fucking happy thought. You're going up against the fucking Ministry and Black Spiral Dancers. You don't stand a fucking snowball's chance in hell if you can't defend yourself."

"Easier said than done," Sirius says. "In my defense, I spent ten years under the tender ministrations of the Dementors."

"Fine, I'll give you your excuse, Black," Falk says, looking to Gellert. "What's yours, Boltwood?"

"Eighty years of being a Nephandus," Gellert replies.

"You're a Nephandus?" Falk repeats.

"Nope," Gellert says. "Ritual of Purification. Never felt better."

"Fine," Falk says. "Because if you said you were, I'd just shoot you and hope you didn't get reborn as a widderslainte."

"Noted," Gellert says cheerfully. "In hindsight it seemed like a pretty terrible idea."

"They often do," Falk says. "Okay, You two have got some handicaps to overcome."

Gellert tilts his head toward Tom. " _He_ was a widderslainte, though."

Falk looks at Tom, and at the dog Patronus.

"Would you believe it was true love?" Tom says.

Falk puts his face in his palm. "What the fuck ever."

Sirius flushes and looks away from Tom.

"Ugh. You two?" Falk mutters.

Tom looks at Sirius and sighs, but doesn't respond.

"Yes, those two," Gellert puts in helpfully.

"And Hawke's not _your_ fucking true love, Black?" Falk asks wryly.

"It's complicated," Sirius replies.

"It's always fucking complicated," Falk says.

"He modified my memories," Sirius retorts.

Falk face palms again. "I'm not going to be your fucking relationship counselor. Deal with it yourselves. Let's fucking move on."

Tom looks at the floor. Is he moping? Is he actually moping?

Falk runs us through some exercises, and tests our skills _hard_. His attitude toward a group of experienced wizards makes me realize just how easy he's going on the children, much as they might complain otherwise. He doesn't play nice or fair, he doesn't stick to using conventional powers or tactics, and he doesn't expect us to do so either. He finally leaves after two hours, but it felt like we'd been at it all night.

Sirius flops down into a chair, letting out an exhausted breath. "Fuck. I'm not envying the kids in Hogwarts right now."

"You don't _have_ to come to his lessons," I say with a smirk.

Sirius shakes his head. "No, he's got a point. Even if he punctuates it with more obscenities than my mother in the presence of Muggleborns. It's been a while since I've been in a real fight, and I'm damned well going to hold down the fort here even if I'm still not sure about what you're doing."

"Sirius…" Tom says quietly.

"Still not talking to you," Sirius replies, not looking at him.

"Okay," Tom replies, and turns to walk off.

"Damnit, Tom, don't just say 'Okay' and turn to walk off," Sirius says, looking over his shoulder.

"You said you didn't want to talk to me," Tom replies. "I wasn't going to push the matter."

"Fine," Sirius says, standing. "Then _I'll_ push the matter. Let's talk." He turns to look at the others in the room and adds, "And we don't need an audience either, sorry." He practically drags Tom out of the room.

"Well," I say once they're gone. "You know what, I'm just going to go to bed. Wake me if they set the house on fire or something."

* * *

I find Tom in the dining room at breakfast, alone, quietly chewing on a bagel with cream cheese.

"So, how'd things go last night?" I ask.

Tom doesn't reply.

I sigh and take a seat. Dobby pours me some tea. I thank him and look intently and expectantly at Tom.

"I'm not sure," Tom says. "Damnit." He rubs his face. "You know why this is happening, don't you? It was the Ritual of Purification. It's left me an emotional wreck and it's ridiculous."

"I figured as much," I say.

"I can only assume that it worked so well in the original timeline because I had you as emotional stability," Tom says. "Something to keep me focused and remind me why I was doing things."

"I'm still here, Tom," I say. "Or here again. Whichever."

"It's not the same," Tom says, then looks over to me. "Are you jealous?"

I blink. "No, why would I be?"

"Because of our relationship in another lifetime," Tom says. "The one at least _I_ remember some of."

I shake my head. "I was never in a relationship with either you or Sirius in this lifetime. And regardless, that's not in my mindset."

Tom finishes his bagel and licks his fingers clean. "I hate to be the one to admit I have no idea what I'm doing, but I know _you_ at least won't judge me for it."

I nod. "Yeah. I understand. Can't look weak in front of enemies or allies you aren't certain of."

Tom looks off quietly for a long moment before saying, "He hates me. He hates me, you know. With a passion."

"I'm sorry," I say.

Tom shakes his head. "I wanted to just leave him be. I'd set my mind to the next life. I didn't think there was any hope of a relationship with him in this lifetime, after that came out. Things didn't quite work out that way."

"I take it you had another heated argument," I say.

"Yes," Tom says. "Quite… heated."

"Oh for love of the Force, don't tell me you two are hate-fucking now?" I ask.

"Alright then, I won't," Tom says.

I put my face in my palm. "This is incredibly stupid. I didn't think people actually _did_ that."

"I take back what I said about not judging me," Tom says dryly.

Rispy clears his throat. "We do need to be preparing for war here."

"Yeah," I say. "Thank you. Do you think we'll be able to meet the Glass Walkers before the attack on the Ministry?"

"We may have to make an opportunity," Rispy says.

"They might be less receptive if we come to them _after_ the fighting has officially begun?" I ask.

"Did the not fighting begin when Dumbledore attacked you?" Tom wonders. "Or when the Ministry brought in the Dementors?"

"Or when the Black Spiral Dancers attacked Hogsmeade?" Rispy adds.

I shake my head. "We'd made no real aggressive moves, then. We had only defended ourselves, not retaliated. Now, we need to strike back. And I mean to strike them _hard_. I've had enough of playing around."

A grin slowly spreads across Tom's face. "Now that's what I like to hear."

"These bastards will regret crossing Darth Revan," I say, grinning back. "I conquered a galaxy once. We will hone our forces into a weapon that won't be trifled with. Have you received any useful intelligence from Tempest yet?"

"I haven't spoken with them yet today," Tom says. "Let us go meet with them, then."

"Hold it together, Tom," I say quietly, putting a hand on his shoulder. "We're going to need you at your best."

We head over to the Lestrange Estate. Tom quickly schools his face into a stoic, dour mask. He's not about to let anyone else see his weakness. I can certainly agree with that. Let them see us as mighty Dark Lords. Let them never underestimate us. Let them never dare to turn against us.

"Tempest, status report," I bark.

"Arrangements are going well enough, my lords," Lucius says, stepping toward us. "I have received a report from Rookwood inside the Ministry. He is not present here at the moment in the interests of maintaining his cover."

I nod tersely. "Give me the report."

"Rookwood works in the Department of Mysteries," Lucius says. "The Aurors are preparing defenses upon the Ministry building, but they have also set up an off-site base of operations."

"Location?" I ask.

"Longbottom Estate," Lucius says.

"Good, good," I say.

"He was unable to get much more information out to avoid undue scrutiny," Lucius says. "However, Macnair has given us more information on the nature of their defenses."

"Excellent," I say.

I stride forward to take a good look at the group. They're a bit less agitated now, and have been cleaned up a good bit. Some of those who had stayed out of Azkaban are present as well. I cast a voice-amplification charm.

"Attention, Tempest," I announce. "We prepare for a great battle. But most importantly, we will not fight fair. We cannot simply charge, wands a-blazing, in and hope for the best. We will strike where they least expect it, and use tactics they cannot anticipate. I want to minimize property damage, in order to obtain the information and resources available in the Ministry building. I also want to take prisoners! We need information, and we need _justice_. Death is never justice. Death is a swift end to those who have wronged us. Kill if necessary, capture where feasible. Don't risk the outcome of the battle on trying to capture. However, those we _can_ capture… Justice would be subjecting them threefold to the wrongs they have committed against others."

Enthusiastic approval ripples through the gathered wizards.

"They stifled our customs and called them 'archaic'. They shunned our rites and branded them 'dark'. They took away our gods and named them 'heresy'. No better than the witch-hunters who slew our children in the days before the Statute of Secrecy! They would take from us our families, our freedom, our lives! Look at us. Even in private, even after all that has happened, we still fear to speak the names of the gods. We still perform our rites hesitantly and in secret. We still have not reclaimed our customs. The last war didn't go far enough, and the backlash only hurt us. This time, we will not back down. We will not give them an inch. We will not surrender!"

I cancel the voice charm and turn back toward Lucius and Tom. While Tom is impassive, I can practically feel the emotions roiling beneath the surface. I'm not sure if it's a side effect of our bond, or that I'm simply getting used to reading his state of mind. Lucius, on the other hand, betrays a trace of nervousness in the lines on his face and his posture.

"I want to rig a dead man's switch," I say. "If I go down, I want to take them all with me."

If I'm alive, I know I can keep fighting and make sure that I can keep my promises to them. But if I die, Tom and Gellert will go with me, and Tempest's chances of success plummet sharply. And while I don't exactly plan on dying, I know myself well enough to expect that I will probably die at least once during this assault, if not several times.

"It can be done," Tom says.

I return to Caer Danas, leaving Tom to make further arrangements. I head to the library and pull out my big book of runes and some parchment. Rune work really is like programming in a lot of ways. I haven't memorized all the runes yet, but if I can put them together and look up the ones I'm not sure on, I believe I can accomplish what I intend to.

"What're you writing?" Gellert asks, coming up to my table and peering over at my parchment. "Rune work?"

"Yeah," I say. "Dead man's switch. Going to make things explode if I die."

"Hmm, that should count as a sacrifice to power it," Gellert says. "A sacrifice of all five of us, technically, even. Just explosions, though?"

"I like explosions," I say.

"Fair enough," Gellert says. He leans over and makes a few rune suggestions.

"I'm going to need to get someone on the inside to draw a few hidden runes on-site," I muse. "I've got some agents at the Ministry, but it'll be a trick who can do it discreetly."

"You do have the Cloak of Invisibility," Gellert reminds me.

"Very true," I say. "I keep forgetting about that."

"Only you would have priceless artifacts and forget about them," Gellert comments.

I scratch down the last few runes and roll up the scroll. Wondering where I might keep my spells, I climb to my feet and head out into the corridors. There's plenty of rooms in my house, and I keep discovering more every time I wander down the corridors. Damned wizard houses and their disregard for the laws of physics. It's enough to give me a headache sometimes. Thinking about what I'm looking for seems to help, though. I focus intently on the thought of wanting a place to store my spells, and set off down the corridors.

I'm not sure that the house shifts around me so much as that I get vague intuition on which direction I should be going. Whatever the opposite of a Confundus Charm might be. I would imagine that the effect would be reversed for someone who isn't supposed to be in the house or doing where I'm going.

Turning a corner, I abruptly come to a heavy door inlaid with gold and warded with runes and carved with the face of a man with antlers, with a triangular symbol below it. Even a cursory skim of the runes is enough to tell me that anyone that came here who shouldn't be here would suffer a terrible curse.

The deer-man's eyes snap open and golden eyes peer intently at me. "Who comes to the Peverell Library?" the door asks in Latin.

"Harry Potter," I reply.

A library? That might be a good place to find some old books. And to store some that I don't really want just laying around the main library, as secure as I might think the place is. But would this door recognize that I'm not the Harry Potter originally born in this timeline?

"Hmm," the door hmms. "Let me taste of your blood."

I pull out a small knife and nick a finger, and place it in the mouth of the face on the door. Its tongue licks me, and I withdraw my hand. Getting licked by a door? That's a new one on me.

"Blood of the Lily," the door replies. "Named heir of this house. Adopted by magic but not by blood. You are not of Peverell blood. Bring me a descendant of the Peverell family, and I will let you pass."

I frown. Damnit, I guess it didn't recognize me as being the correct Harry Potter. "Do any even remain alive?"

"I do not know," the door tells me. "I have no genealogical records."

"What if there aren't any extant descendants of the Peverell line?" I ask.

"Then none shall enter this library," the door says. "I am to destroy its contents should anyone attempt to circumvent my defenses by force."

"Alright then," I say. "I'll see if I can find any information on the Peverell family." I turn to leave, but then pause. "Is there anywhere that I can leave a spell I've written until and unless I can enter this library? It's very important that it not fall into the wrong hands."

"Hmm," the door hmms again. "There are storage rooms that you, as the recognized owner of the house, do have access to. You can use one of those."

"Alright, thank you," I say. I pause again before leaving, uncertain on what courtesy and etiquette is involved with talking to a door. "Farewell," I go with.

After placing my scroll in the storage room along with Tom's former Horcruces, I return to the main library, where Gellert is writing some notes of his own.

"I found a secret library," I tell him. "But I can't get into it. It told me I wasn't of Peverell blood."

"Now _that_ is interesting," Gellert says. "This house used to belong to the Peverells?"

"Apparently," I say. "That symbol was on the door. The one that's on my cloak and ring, that you said was the Deathly Hallows symbol."

Gellert nods. "Makes sense."

"Now I'm wondering what they were keeping in there," I say, grinning widely. "This could be a treasure trove of ancient knowledge!"

"And all we need to do is find a Peverell," Gellert says lightly. "Simple. It's not like the family line is extinct or anything."

"Er, yeah…" I chuckle. "I don't suppose I have any cousins of that bloodline? Damn, as much as I'd like to find out what's in there, I don't really have time to go chasing down genealogies. I wonder why it wouldn't let me in, though? It acknowledge me as the owner of the house."

Gellert shrugs. "Different defense schemes. Wizards sometimes set things up that way to keep secrets in their own bloodline even in the event that an enemy or in-law gets their properties. The thing wizarding families most fear is that their estates wind up in the hands of their in-laws."

* * *

I return to the Lestrange Estate.

"Malfoy," I say. "Can you get me inside the Ministry before the attack? I need to lay in some preparations."

"Preparations?" Lucius asks.

"Runes," I explain.

"One of our agents could escort you inside, but there are checkpoints that would detect a wand on you," Lucius says.

I pull out my invisibility cloak. "Could this conceal me sufficiently?" I put it on in demonstration.

"Hmm," Lucius muses. "I don't believe so. It would fool a visual inspection, but they would still likely detect your magic."

I take it off and put it away. "I could leave my wands behind."

"That might also draw suspicion, if they manage to detect a magical signature without a wand attached," Lucius says.

"I have Dumbledore's wand," I say. "Of course, if anyone needed to actually _see_ me at some point, not looking like Dumbledore would be a problem."

"Polyjuice potion," Lucius suggests. "It can make you look like someone else, with the addition of a hair from the subject. Snape can procure some, as well as acquire some of the necessary hairs."

"Excellent," I say. "I will contact him."

Once home again, I conjure my Patronus and instruct her to deliver a message to Severus Snape when he's alone, with the appropriate instructions. If I can actually get inside the Ministry to place runes in key locations, I can certainly do better than simply blowing it up. There's any number of things I can do. I return to the library and bring out my rune book again and pore over it for ideas. Perhaps I could simply put everyone inside to sleep or something. No, anyone mentally stronger or with shields would be able to resist that. Hmm.

Snape arrives later in the evening. "Potter." He places a bottle on my desk. "I have done as you asked."

"Ah, thank you," I say. "Could I trouble you for a few questions?"

"Of course."

"Do you know if James Potter has any living relatives?" I ask.

Snape raises an eyebrow at me. "Besides you?"

I shake my head. "Apparently I'm not actually related to James Potter."

"What?" Snape looks at me in confusion.

"I found a door in this house earlier that would not let me inside," I explain. "It called me 'Blood of the Lily', but then claimed I was not of Peverell descent. Judging by my conversation with it, I'm apparently related to Lily by blood, but not James. Which also begs the question of who in the _hell_ my father actually is."

Snape stares at me. "You can't possibly be suggesting…"

"What?" I ask.

"… that _I_ could be your father?"

I put my face in my palm. "Is it possible?"

Snape is silent for a long moment.

"If this is another moment of 'Lexen Skywalker, I am your father,' so help me, I swear…" I mutter.

"Don't joke about this," Snape growls.

"Believe me, I'm not," I say.

"Perhaps James was simply not of Peverell descent," Snape suggests.

"I'm not sure he even realized this house _exists_ ," I say with a shrug. "The door didn't have a family tree on hand. Er, not that it had… hands. All it did was analyze my blood. I would very much liked to have been able to get in and discover whatever secrets might lay in the Peverell secret library, but if I'm not of Peverell descent, then I'm just going to have to find a Peverell."

"James' parents are dead. He was their only child," Snape says. "I cannot think of any other Potters offhand, but I am certain that there must be _someone_."

"Right, thanks," I say, reaching over to pick up the potion. "This will make me look like Dumbledore?"

"Yes," Snape says. "Each dose will transform you for one hour. There are five doses in there, so you can be Dumbledore for five hours, just do not forget to take another drink every hour. It will not alter your clothing, however, so be certain to have something to wear that is of the proper size and suitably hideous."

"Alright," I say. "How are my friends at school?"

"You intend to attack the Ministry, and you're asking me about your school friends?" Snape asks incredulously.

"I'm asking if they're safe, not what their grades are and who they have a crush on," I retort.

"They are well," Snape says. "Might I remind you that, should you return to school, I will be obligated to give you detention for the next five years?"

"Yeah, that's fine," I say. "Detention sounds awfully good about now. It'd be a nice break from the Dementors, corrupt government, and insane werewolves."

"It is not too late to call off this mad plan and return to class," Snape says.

I shake my head. "I'm set on this plan. There will be no safety for me or my friends or allies in this world until this is done."

"Very well," Snape says. "I must return to school before I am missed."

Once he leaves, Gellert pokes his head out from behind a bookshelf.

"How long have you been there?" I ask.

"Since you left," Gellert says. "Are you going to the Ministry now?"

"Tomorrow," I say. "I want to give them as little time as possible to detect my traps. Also I need to perfect the rune work."

Gellert comes over to look at my parchment. "Not planning to blow it up still?"

"I can include the dead man's switch as well, but so long as I'm sneaking in there in the first place, I should take the opportunity to put in something that would help the actual assault. If we successfully capture the location, I can always remove the dead man's switch again."

Gellert nods. "So… do you really think you're Snape's son?" He grins mischievously.

I snort softly. "At this point, I'm not ruling _anything_ out."

"You know, you can really go somewhere with this—" Gellert begins.

"I'd really rather have gotten into the library," I reply. "Sit down, we've got work to do."

"Sneaking into the Ministry disguised as Albus?" Gellert says. "You know, so long as you've got that Polyjuice potion…"

"If you're going to suggest what I think you're going to suggest, I'm going to—"

Gellert holds up his hands. "Not a word."

"I'm sure you can help me out with a suitable outfit, though," I say.

"Yup!" Gellert says. "I'll transfigure something for you."

* * *

I look dubiously over Gellert's handiwork, draped too-large around my twelve-year-old body. While I can distinctly recall Dumbledore's flamboyant manner of dress, this ruffled plaid robe seems more ostentatious than usual.

"Are you sure about this?" I ask.

"Nobody will question it," Gellert says with a coy grin. "Alright, some quick coaching here. What's your name?"

"Albus Dumbledore," I say.

"Your middle name?"

"Uhh… Wulfric? Brian? Something or other?"

Gellert smirks. "Let's just go with Albus Dumbledore. How about all those titles?"

"Fuck," I mutter. "Supreme… Mugwump? Something something Wizengamot?"

Gellert puts his face in his palm.

"There was a something of Merlin in there too, wasn't there?" I ask.

"Hopefully nobody is going to ask for your titles," Gellert says. "Or care, for that matter."

"Alright, here goes nothing," I say, pulling out the flask of Polyjuice.

I take a drink of the potion. My body warps and changes around me, filling out the robes with some discomfort. A long, itchy beard sprouts from my chin, and I have to resist the urge to scratch and tug at it to get it out of the way.

"Out of curiosity," Gellert says. "What does Albus taste like?"

"I'd think you'd already know that," I comment.

"Touché," Gellert says.

As I head for the fireplace, I call back, "Hard lemonade." I toss some Floo powder into the fireplace. "Ministry of Magic, lobby!"

I emerge into a large, ostentatious hall. Eyes alert, I take in exits, defenses, potential threats. A few wizards have lined up at the far end of the lobby in front of a fireplace, waiting to use the Floo. The ceiling… oh crap, it's covered with moving runes. This isn't going to be as easy as I thought. I should really have known better. A hideous statue stands in the middle of the room. I dismiss it from my mind immediately.

Behind me, someone emerging from the Floo bumps into me. "Excuse me."

"My apologies," I say, moving out of the way.

How can I examine the defenses even in the lobby without looking suspicious while doing so, and within my five-hour time limit? Damnit, I hadn't really thought ahead that far, and I'd planned to attack this building tomorrow. Everything's been prepared, but I might have to postpone. I don't understand most of the runes at a glance, and I can't exactly pull out my big book of runes and compare notes without drawing too much attention.

Smoothing my face and doing my best Dumbledore impression, I head over to the security desk. Another mask, another role to play. Today, I am Albus Dumbledore. Ahead of me in line, a witch has her wand checked and given back. Good, I didn't relish the thought of coming in here without a wand. My turn comes up, and I approach the desk.

"Wand," says the security guard holding out his hand.

I present the Elder Wand, which he puts into a device to analyze it and then returns it. I'm guessing Dumbledore didn't see fit to report that his wand was taken.

"Go on in," says the guard. "Next!"

I head inside. The building is larger than I'd anticipated as well, and full of people, despite my warnings. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Purposefully, I wander through the halls, acting like I know where I'm going and have every right to be in here. As I go, I make careful note of layout and defenses. At least Dumbledore is known to be a little absent-minded and nobody will think twice if I seem a bit distracted or get 'lost'.

It occurs to me that the best way to set up contingency spells inside the Ministry building is to slice into their own defenses. It's really no different from getting into a computer system. I don't have the personal energy to fuel a high-powered spell on my own, but if I utilize what's already there…

When no one is looking, I pull aside a curtain and quickly scrawl a series of runes — "access", "storm", and "seeker". I don't have time to draw complex rune systems all over the building, but this should hopefully allow me to use the rune combination "Stormseeker" to slice into the Ministry's defenses. Well, if this goes terribly wrong, I might wind up blowing up the place anyway. I continue down the corridors, placing my set of runes in closets, behind paintings, and anywhere else I think I can get away with that no one will immediately notice.

I come upon a door that reads, "Arthur Weasley - Misuse of Muggle Artefacts". Snorting softly at the way they insist on spelling the word "artifact" around here, I knock on the door. A voice calls out to invite me inside, and I enter.

"Professor!" says the red-haired man in the office. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Please, Arthur," I say. "It has been some time since I was your professor. Call me Albus, if you would."

"You know I'll never get used to that," Arthur chuckles. "What brings you here?"

"Did you receive warning about a possible immanent attack upon the Ministry?" I ask.

"Yes," Arthur says with a sigh. "From no less than five of my children."

"I hope you are not planning to remain here," I say.

"I doubt they'll actually attack _here_ ," Arthur says. "And at any rate, I should help defend the place. I'm not going to run and hide."

"I urge you to reconsider," I say. "Harry is dangerous and unpredictable, and there's no telling what he may be capable of."

"He's twelve," Arthur says.

"Have you not heard rumor of his… interesting abilities?" I ask.

"What, that rot that's been printed in the _Prophet_ that he's supposedly a time traveler or something?" Arthur says. "It's hogwash."

"It's not nonsense," I say. "I have seen the results of his powers first-hand. He is no mere twelve-year-old. I cannot say how old he truly is, but he does not act like any child, and he betrays skills beyond that which a second-year student should be capable of."

Arthur frowns. "I thought this was all overblown, but my children seemed quite vehement about it."

"Perhaps you should listen to them more," I say, attempting to get down that eye-twinkle thing, but I don't know if I manage it. "Even if they are not time travelers, there are times that they display wisdom beyond their years. They have had more experience around him, and would know his behavior and abilities best."

"Do _you_ think he's actually likely to attack the Ministry itself?" Arthur asks.

"I cannot say," I reply. "But for the sake of your children, I would not take the chance. Defend your home. The world faces many threats in this day, and the future is full of uncertainty. But the one thing that one can be certain of is family, even in the face of—"

My face twitches, and a wriggling sensation crawls up my arm. I turn aside and take another swig of Polyjuice.

"My apologies," I say, faking a coughing fit. "Severus' potions go down the wrong way at times."

"Are you alright, Professor?" Arthur asks.

"Not to worry, my boy," I say. "It's not serious, and I'm not contagious. Nothing to worry about."

"Are you sure?" Arthur asks.

"I will be fine," I assure him.

Arthur nods, then glances down at his paperwork with a sigh. "If you think we're really in danger here, I'll evacuate and tell whichever of my co-workers that are willing to listen."

I nod. "That would be wise. I would hate to see anything happen to good people."

"You be well, too, Professor."

Arthur puts his paperwork away and leaves the room. Once he's gone, I slip over to the desk and scrawl a few runes underneath it before exiting as well.

In another part of the Ministry building, I run across a man with a spinning, magical eye and a peg-leg. He stops and peers intently at me, and I shiver involuntarily. That's definitely no ordinary prosthetic. I can practically feel it scanning me.

"Albus," he says.

What the fuck was his name again? I should know this. "Mad-Eye."

Mad-Eye Moody snorts softly. "Is it Mad-Eye today, Albus?" He squints at me and raises his wand. "Who was my girlfriend in fifth year?"

Fuck, just what I need, a paranoid Auror. "You cannot expect me to remember that," I say.

"Considering you gave me detention for snogging her in a broom cupboard, yes, I do," Moody says, jutting his wand at me. "How about this? Do you even know my first name?"

Shit, he's got me there. I can barely remember his name at all. He's already got his wand in hand and pointed at me. He could get a spell off before I could even draw my wand. Fortunately for me, though, I've never really relied upon a wand in combat. No one else is watching.

The storm surges around me, blasting Moody with a sudden clash. He stumbles back, but has a shield up in an instant. Elder Wand in my hand, I wish I'd brought my lightsaber, but didn't dare have it be detected. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I can't afford to lose. Not here, not now.

It occurs to me that I should just force a reset, in the instant before he stuns me.


	16. Captive

I wake with a groan and spend a few seconds wondering where I am. This isn't my room at Caer Danas. I don't recognize this place. He didn't actually kill me, did he. Fuck. I'm on my knees, and bound with heavy ropes behind my back and around my wrists and ankles. I'm still large and Dumbledore-shaped. That means less than an hour has passed.

Moody stands looking down at me, still pointing a wand at me. The room is dim and made of old, worn wood, and it positively reeks of the Dark Side. I'm not still in the Ministry, either, I don't think. Where the hell did he take me so quickly? Did he drag me through the Floo in a nearby office? I don't think you can Apparate inside the Ministry building.

How _dare_ he capture me like this! Anger brims up inside of me. I can still call up a Force Storm even if I'm tied up. Electricity crackles around me. A blast of thunder sends Moody flying across the room into the far wall.

I don't even see a wand pointed at me before blacking out.

* * *

My eyes blink open. I'm still Dumbledore. Moody is still standing pointing a wand at me as if nothing happened. Oh, damnit, did I just accidentally kill myself with overcharged lightning? I need to calm down. I am the eye of the storm. It's positively embarrassing to blow myself up instead of blowing other people up.

"So," Moody says. "Want to talk, or shall we just hold out here for another half an hour or so and see who you turn into, hmm? Don't think I didn't find that Polyjuice you had on you."

"If you just wanted to wait for it to wear off, why did you unstun me?" I ask.

"Can't interrogate you when you're unconscious," Moody says. "Mind telling me just what you were doing inside the Ministry of Magic?"

"Spectacularly failing at 'Constant vigilance' again, apparently," I say.

Moody snorts softly. "So, you _do_ know me."

Right, wasn't that something he always said? I can't remember. Being stunned and waking up in a strange place isn't doing my mind any favors, either. My memory seems fuzzier than usual right now. I have no weapons on hand, and now Moody will have mastery of the Elder Wand, too. Damnit. After all the trouble I went to to get my hands on that damned thing.

"I could always just bring out the Veritaserum," Moody comments.

"Don't ask what you don't want to hear," I say.

"It's a crude method and a smart wizard can get around it," Moody says. "So. Let's start simple. Who are you?"

"He-Who-Has-Too-Damned-Many-Names," I reply. "Which one do you want?"

"Very droll," Moody says. "If that's supposed to be a reference to Albus' middle names, I've already figured out you're not him."

"Oh, but I'm certainly him, for another, what is it, thirty minutes or so?"

Moody rolls his good eye while keeping the magical one firmly fixed on me. That's rather impressive. "Just tell me all of them."

"'Kay," I reply. "Lexenmilot Skywalker Majere Renneck Chelseer, the Stormseeker, Heir of the Children of the Dragon's Blood, Harry James Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, Revan, the Revanchist, Darth Revan, Dark Lord of the Sith—"

"That's quite enough," Moody interrupts.

"That's okay," I say. "I'm not sure that I really remember much more than that anyway."

"Funny how you seem to know me, but I know I've never met you before," Moody says.

"Time travel," I reply.

"Right, of course, very simple," Moody says dryly. "Why were you in the Ministry?"

"Why do you think I was in the Ministry?" I ask. "I haven't exactly made any secret about my intentions." I keep quiet about the runes I've set up, just in case I get a chance to actually use them.

"Your sarcasm does you no credit," Moody says.

"I'm not exactly going to tell you about all of my plans, you know," I say. "And if you do give me fucking Veritaserum, you really won't like what you hear."

"If that's the only way to get any real answers out of you, I'll take that chance."

Moody hits me with a curse that completely immobilizes me long enough for him to drizzle a few droplets of Veritaserum onto my tongue. He steps back into position before releasing me from the spell. As if being tied up isn't bad enough.

"Fine, hit me," I say.

"What is your name?" Moody asks.

I grin wildly at him. "Lexen Skywalker."

"Who are your parents?"

"My father is Darth Vader, and my mother is Anara Chelseer."

Moody snorts softly. "Right, apparently you can completely resist this stuff."

"Nahhh," I say.

"Are you working for Voldemort?" Moody tries anyway.

"No." That much I can definitely say honestly.

"What are your ultimate plans?" Moody asks.

I shrug as much as is possible given my bonds. "World domination, what else?"

"Where are your followers located?"

"The planet Manaan," I reply. "The selkath, the native fish-aliens, let us set up a school for Force users there."

"Who is your second-in-command?" Moody asks.

"A former Jedi by the name of Bastila Shan," I reply.

"Why are all your answers nonsense?" Moody wonders.

"The problem is with _your_ frame of mind, not mine," I tell him.

The Polyjuice potion wears off, and my body shrinks back to its normal size. The colorful robes hang loose around me, as do the ropes. I squirm and wriggle my way free, hoping to catch him by surprise, but with another spell from Moody, the only thing I accomplish is that I'm now laying on my side and still tied up.

"Damnit," I mutter.

"Anymore clever responses out of you?" Moody asks.

"I could make clever responses all day," I reply.

"How are you planning to take out the Ministry?" Moody asks.

"I haven't really planned that far ahead," I say.

"How do you plan to take over the world without planning anything?" Moody asks.

"No plan survives contact with the enemy," I reply. "Whatever I might have been planning to do in the Ministry didn't survive contact with _you_."

Maybe if I repeatedly force a reset, I can signal to my bondmates that I'm in trouble. No, that's a terrible idea. I can't start being a hypocrite just because I'm in a more inconvenient situation than usual. I've been through and gotten out of worse before. How did my life ever wind up being to the point of _not_ wanting to resort to time travel to change things? This is incredibly stupid. Time travel won't fix me being stupid and careless. And besides… I can't easily travel back more than half an hour. He stunned me. Bastard. If I thought it were even possible, I'd think he knew what would mess me up. But no, he couldn't even be sure who I was, never mind how my power works.

"So, time travel," Moody says, hopefully not actually reading my mind but I won't rule that out. "How does it work?"

"I go back in time when I die," I say reflexively.

"You don't control it?" Moody asks.

"Not normally," I say. "I've been experimenting with it. Obviously it's pretty easy to force a reset if I simply kill myself."

"When do you go back to?" Moody asks.

I make a face. "To the last time I woke up. Which means, yes, I can't escape just by killing myself to go back in time."

Moody peers at me. "So, did I manage to get around your Veritaserum resistance, or are you selling me more lies and nonsense?"

"It's truth I didn't want you to hear, so yeah," I say. "Congratulations. I'd throw you a fucking party, but I'm a little tied up right now."

"How about a Dementor?" Moody asks. "Could that kill you?"

"I don't know, probably?" I say. "You mean permanently?"

"Of course," Moody says with a grin that's anything but pleasant.

"I don't know," I say.

"Why don't we find out, huh?"

"How about not?" I retort.

There is no fucking way that I'm going to let him get me near a Dementor unarmed. I might be able to talk them down again, but I'm not about to take the chance, especially when he can probably talk to them, too.

"They can suck your soul right out, boy," Moody says. "You think you can just reset from that?"

The storm rises in my mind unbidden. "Enough," I snarl. "I have no answers for you. I _don't know_ , and I'm not going to _find out_."

I've had enough of playing around. He's heard too much already. I can't afford to even let him stun me. I don't know if this man is more dangerous than Jez'kai or Falk might be, but he's the one who is in front of me right at this moment, which automatically makes him the most dangerous thing in my immediate existence.

An overcharged crash of lightning surrounds me. Hoping that it at least takes him out with me. The world goes black.

* * *

I wake, tied up and shaped like Dumbledore again. Time to try a different tack. To the Void, the Abyss, the Dark Side, and the nine motherfucking _hells_ with not wanting to overuse Time Magic. I will reset as many times as necessary to get a favorable outcome here.

"Care to talk?" Moody asks. "Or shall we just wait for the Polyjuice to wear off and see who you really are?"

"Fuck," I mutter. "Fine, I'll talk."

"Wise choice," Moody says. "So, who are you?"

"Harry Potter," I say.

"Right then," Moody says. "The Boy-Who-Lived turned upstart Dark Lord. And what were you doing in the Ministry?"

"Recon, mostly," I reply vaguely.

"And what did you discover?"

I sigh. "That the place is too large and there's too many innocents around for a direct assault to be feasible."

"You're concerned about innocents?" Moody asks.

"Of course," I say. "I may be a Dark Lord, but I'm not a _monster_. Nor an idiot. Not much sense in destroying a country in an attempt to conquer it. What do you think I am? Voldemort?"

"You gotta wonder sometimes," Moody says. "So, is that what it is? World domination?"

"Honestly, I don't actually want to take over the world," I say. "I just can't tolerate incompetence and corruption."

"That's a fine line to take, for someone calling themselves a Dark Lord and trying to take over the world," Moody comments.

"I really wanted to just stay in school," I say. "But I couldn't abide by the Ministry terrorizing children with Dementors and sending innocent people to Azkaban."

"You broke out a lot of people who weren't so innocent, too," Moody points out.

"I intended to make sure that the ones who couldn't adjust to normal life wound up dead," I say. "I don't want to have to babysit former Death Eaters just to make sure they aren't committing pointless atrocities the minute I look the other way."

"How pure are your intentions, really?" Moody wonders skeptically. "How clean are your motivations? Seems like you're just as dirty as you claim your enemies are."

"Are you defending the people who use Dementors as their attack hounds?" I ask. "And if you say even one _word_ about 'necessary evil' or gods forbid, 'the greater good'…"

"The scum that get locked up in Azkaban deserve what they get," Moody replies.

"Do the children at Hogwarts deserve it?" I ask. "And does everyone who gets sent to Azkaban really deserve it? For every irredeemable asshole that gets sent there, how many pickpockets and shoplifters? How many didn't get a fair trial to begin with? Tell me that. Tell me. Can you guarantee that everyone they've let near a Dementor has really deserved it?"

Moody is quiet for a moment. "Can _you_ justify letting those irredeemable assholes roam free?"

"Better that they die," I say. "But I'd rather let a horde of assholes go free than imprison even a single innocent person. _Freedom for all beings_."

"I'll believe this when those 'irredeemable assholes' wind up dead," Moody says. "You still have them working for you, don't you."

"At least I could count on them to probably listen to me," I say. "They think I'm Voldemort reborn, after all."

"And you aren't?"

"No!" I retort. "I am not, and never was, Voldemort. I'm a time traveler who has seen a thousand possible futures and forgotten most of them. It was _Voldemort_ who fucked with my mind and caused me to forget so much. I've neutralized him and taken command of his former minions up until such point as I destroy them if they cannot find redemption."

"Do you still believe yourself to be the savior of the Light?" Moody asks.

I close my eyes. "I would sooner cut off my right hand than reject the Light."

My skin wriggles. The Polyjuice potion wears off, and my body shrinks. The ridiculous ruffled clothes go loose around me, and the ropes holding my wrists in place go slack. I pull my hands free and rest my arms on my knees, and look over to him calmly, as if silently asking him what he's going to do next.

"I don't believe you, and I don't trust your motivations," Moody says. "And I don't agree with your methods."

"I don't agree with all my methods, either," I say. "Give me a better option."

Moody flicks his wand, and my robes turn into a straitjacket, tight and snug against my body. So much for no longer being tied up.

"Your option right now is to stay put while I go make some calls," Moody says. "Don't even think about escape. This place is warded up so tight even a house-elf can't get in. Have a nice nap. _Stupefy_."

* * *

When I wake again, it's night. I can't see anything outside the room I'm in, but I can feel it. It's between eleven o'clock and midnight. It's so nice to know that, even if I can't properly cast spells while in a straitjacket, my Time Magic still works perfectly fine.

Unarmed, tied up, alone, locked up and warded. But a Jedi, Sith, Elkandu, wizard or mage is never really unarmed. I have some freedom of movement, and my mouth is unbound. My tongue is often my greatest weapon. I'd really hoped to be able to convince him with my 'Paragon of the Light' act, but if he bought any of it, it doesn't seem to have changed anything. At least with him gone, the lingering aura of Dark Side energy has faded. Did I fail to convince him because he was darker than I thought?

I roll over to face the floor and bite down hard on my tongue until it bleeds. This isn't the way I would normally use my tongue as a weapon, but it's the only writing implement I have available. Very carefully, I draw on the floor in blood and saliva the runes, "storm", "seeker", and "connect". It takes far too much time and effort to get it right, but I don't dare get it wrong. By the time I'm done, I can feel it tick over into the hour of midnight.

Upon activating the runes, I suddenly become aware of the other rune segments I played inside the Ministry building. Not in a visual sense, but humming at the edge of my awareness of my soul. But maybe I _could_ see what's going on there. Just how good are the wards around this building? The Ministry's wards won't help it — I'm tapping directly into them.

Rolling over a little further, I lick another rune into existence by the complex, "sight". When I activate this one, a surge of sensory overload blasts through my mind. I clench my eyes shut and barely have the forethought to roll backwards to avoid smearing my runes. Maybe this was poorly thought out, but I'm completely improvising at this point.

Amidst the barrage of information, I become aware of a battle going on in and around the Ministry. Tempest is there. _Fuck_. Who gave the order to send them in? Fuck, my bondmates probably think I'm being held there. Double fuck, Moody probably rallied the Aurors.

I have to do something, but I can't even focus on the details of what's going on inside the Ministry enough to make sense of it. I need to contact them somehow. Ugh, if anyone sent a Patronus to me, either it didn't get through or it came while I was unconscious.

I roll back over toward the rune complex and draw the rune "focus" underneath "sight". My vision clears. I watch a battle unfolding before me. Tempest hasn't managed to penetrate the wards. I don't see Rookwood or Macnair, so they're probably laying low so as not to blow their cover, somewhere well away from there. Moody is there. The Aurors are there. And Tempest is losing.

I'd expected to have more of a chance to set up runes to connect into the ones in the Ministry. A nice, leisurely evening of drawing runes on parchment and carefully cross-referencing them in my book to make sure I've used the best ones for what I want to do and drawn them properly. Clearly I wasn't being paranoid and pessimistic enough. At least the connection _worked_. I wasn't quite sure if it would, but having runes drawn in blood at the hour of midnight probably gave it the extra power boost it needed.

Through my link to the Ministry building's wards, I see Rispy fighting on the front lines, lightsaber in hand. As skilled as he is, he's having trouble keeping up with the spells flying at him. He can't teleport to me, so he must be trying to get to me. He fails a block. A curse strikes him. He goes sprawling to the ground. Blood drains out onto the tiles.

Rage. Panic. Desperation. I can't let this stand. Is he even still alive?

I wipe away the "sight" and "focus" runes with a shoulder. I don't need to see anymore. I don't want to see anymore. The vision in my mind vanishes.

Heart pounding. I flop over ungracefully to the next spot by the rune complex and make sure my tongue is still bleeding. The storm running through my head. My teeth seem sharp as fangs. I draw one more rune. "Destroy". I can't manage anything more complex right now. I can barely manage _that_. I wish I could get free and had something sharp in hand in order to cut myself and get some blood flowing. I just hope that this is enough to count as a living sacrifice.

My body becomes a conduit as I call upon the power of the storm. Electricity pours through me, burning me from the inside out. I'm distantly aware of the energy flowing out the other side as darkness takes me once more.

* * *

I wake with a headache, groaning. At least my friends will be alive now. At least they'll be warned. That took everything out of me, though. I'm amazed that I'm even conscious at all.

I think at this point I'd best just rest and come what may.

Time passes. I drift in and out of sleep. Moody doesn't return, not even to feed me or let me take a leak. It doesn't matter, though. I don't have the energy to move anyway. The world could be on fire right now and I couldn't do a thing about it. All that's left is to have faith in my friends.

Several hours later, a sound rustles me to alertness again. A flashlight shines into the room, and I blink involuntarily, temporarily blinded as my eyes adjust to the light.

"Did we find him?"

"Yeah, here he is."

"Is that him?"

"I think so."

"Damn, he looks beat."

"Let's get him out of that."

I don't recognize the voices, but I hope they're friendly. No, wait, I think one of them is—

"Nine-Toes?" I slur, tongue heavy as though I'd been drawing runes with it in _this_ timeline.

"Got it in one," says the silhouette. "They got you but good, didn't they."

Razor-sharp claws rake through the straitjacket, freeing me. I try to shake it off and stand up, but my muscles won't cooperate and I just wind up weakly flopping a little.

"How did you find me?" I ask slowly.

Nine-Toes helps pull the garment off of me. "Your packmates performed a ritual to locate you."

"I'm guessing it wasn't that simple," I murmur. "Moody said he had the place warded up tight."

"Was that the name of the fomor?" asks the other man, the one I don't recognize.

"The what?" I ask.

"Possessed person," he explains. "D'you mean the man with the pegleg and the woogly eye?"

"Yeah, that's him," I say. "What do you mean, possessed? Moody's a good man, if a little crazy and overly paranoid."

"He might've been a good man once, but a bane spirit wriggled its way into his soul and corrupted it. Probably why he wound up a 'little' crazy. He stank of the Wyrm. Unfortunately, he got away."

"Sorry, what's your name?" I ask.

"Ah, sorry," the other man says. "The name's Millennium Falcon."

"Wait, that's your name?" I wonder.

"Yeah, it's from this movie—"

"Oh my gods you are my new best friend."

Nine-Toes laughs aloud. "Falcon here's a Glass Walker."

Falcon nods. "We had to find out what the hell was up. You made an awful lot of noise. Pretty impressive, but there's quite a mess now."

"Come on, let's get you out of here and somewhere safe," Nine-Toes says, leaning down to pick me up. "I'll just have to carry you."

"How'd you get past the wards?" I ask.

"Funny thing, that," Falcon says. "The fomor was paranoid, but not paranoid _enough_. He kept out every threat he could think of, not all of them."

"That's why you've got Garou rescuing you, and not your wizard or elf friends," Nine-Toes says.

"Where's Moony, then?" I ask.

"He's a wizard as well as a Garou," Nine-Toes says. "The wards kept him out."

We head for the exit.

"I would've expected getting kidnapped and tied up like that would've provoked a frenzy," Falcon says. "How'd you stay calm?"

"I didn't," I reply. "How much did you tell him, Nine-Toes?"

"Hard to tell your story half as well as you, Stormseeker," Nine-Toes says with a light chuckle. "You're gonna have to come tell some more, too. The cubs are clamoring for it. Something about a kid hero struck a chord, I think."

"He said you were a time traveler," Falcon says. "Which sounds pretty damned awesome if you ask me."

"I blew myself up three times," I say. "The last two were intentional, at least. I tried to talk to him, but nothing I said could convince him."

"You didn't notice the stink?" Falcon asks. "Your nose just not up to snuff?"

"I did," I reply. "I just— didn't realize."

We emerge from the building. The eastern sky is beginning to grow pale through a thick cover of dark clouds. Standing watch outside are three more people, probably more werewolves. They nod to us as we come out. They're dressed in Muggle-style clothing, two of them wearing vests, and one of them has on one of those floppy hats whose name I don't recall.

"Anymore trouble up here?" Falcon asks.

"Nope," says the girl in the hat. "The fomor hasn't come back."

"Great, let's get the kid back to HQ," Falcon says. "He's had a rough time of it."

They take me over to a white van with a logo and the words "Lowell Electrical Contracting, Ltd." and a series of numbers on the side. Falcon takes the driver's seat, and the rest of us pile into the back. Nine-Toes gently sets me down on the floor. Most of the back is taken up with a variety of the sort of equipment one might not really expect an electrical contractor to carry around. There's three monitors and two keyboards, and I can't even identify what most of this stuff is for.

"What's with the van?" I ask.

"It's a cover," Falcon says. "People will notice and be suspicious of unmarked vans. People will just ignore an electrical contractor."

"What if someone wants you to actually do electrical contracting?" I ask.

"Then we actually do electrical contracting," Falcon says with a chuckle. "Company's all above-board. Helps the cover, and doesn't hurt to get some money in."

"You okay there, kid?" the girl in the hat asks.

"I'll be fine, I'm sure," I say. "Just kind of drained as all fuck right now."

"Not surprised, considering what you pulled," Nine-Toes says. "It's a wonder it didn't kill you."

"It did," I reply. "Wait, what? That didn't happen in this timeline."

"Well, something sure did," the girl says. "The name's Digit, by the way. The strong, silent types here are Crowbar and Sledgehammer."

"Noted," I say.

No entourage is complete without a couple guys who might as well be brick walls, apparently.

"They say you're called Stormseeker," Digit says. "How'd you get that name?"

"It was given to me by some people who love pretentious titles," I say. "Supposedly to identify me in prophecies or some such bullshit. Which is kind of a ridiculous thing for a time traveler, but whatever. At least there's no hyphens in it. The damned wizards titled me The-Boy-Who-Lived, which is just kind of terrible. That was, what, for the great deed of not-dying?"

Nine-Toes snorts in amusement. "Accurate enough, though, considering you apparently don't stay dead."

"True," I say with an attempted shrug.

"Hold onto your butts back there," Falcon says. "We'll be experiencing a bit of turbulence."

"Turbulence?" I repeat.

Despite it being dawn, the sky is dark and gloomy. Trees and loose objects whip around in winds heavy enough to even shake the van a little. The occasional flash of lightning and rumble of thunder pierces the morning sky.

"Don't worry, we'll be inside in a few," Falcon says.

"So, Stormseeker," Digit says. "Was this your handiwork?"

"Let me see," I say. "Help me up front, please."

Nine-Toes gives me a hand and sits me down in the empty seat on the left side of the van. I gape out the windscreen. Over the spot where I assume the Ministry building must have been physically located, an enormous storm swirls, crackling and raging. Near the eye of the storm, the winds are strong enough to pick up small cars and dumpsters. The windows rattle with the force of it.

"Holy _fuck_ ," I utter. "I really didn't mean to do _that_."

"How'd you manage it, anyway?" Nine-Toes asks.

"Blood, rage, and desperation," I reply. "Fuck, it must still be drawing in energy from me. No wonder I still feel so drained."

"Yeah..." Falcon says. "Rescuing you wasn't purely altruistic. You might be the only one who can shut this thing down."


	17. Valentine's Day Storm

Falcon drives us into an underground carpark. Once we come to a stop, the others climb out and try to help me out, but I still can't move.

"Harry!" Remus comes up and sweeps me up in his arms and hugs me tight. "You're alright!"

"More or less," I say. "My head's fuzzy, I'm exhausted, and I can't move."

"Let's get you inside," Remus says. "Padfoot and Phoenix are here, too."

I guess I should be careful about mentioning Gellert's real name around those who don't know yet and might care. Remus hauls me upstairs into another room, and gently puts me down into a chair. Sirius looks happy to see me, but visibly nervous and agitated. Gellert comes over to take a seat next to me. Over in one corner, Rispy is sitting, looking a little despondent, but definitely alive.

Near one wall, a large screen displays what's going on outside. The cyclone centered on the Ministry of Magic building, crackling and churning. Wherever the camera picking this up might be, it's close enough to rattle the display. The shaking and jittering of the image is a little disorienting. I half expect the liquid in the coffee maker that's next to the screen to be sloshing around as well.

"That's a live feed," Remus says.

"So I gather," I say. "Fuck's sake."

"What did you _do_?" Gellert asks, waving his wand at me. The remnants of the straitjacket turn back into normal black robes.

"Drew runes in blood at the hour of midnight and then killed myself to power them," I reply.

Gellert winces. "And this was the result. Damn. There's reasons they don't teach kids the more dangerous runes. You know most of a rune complex is made up of sequences to stabilize it, safety procedures, limitations. If you don't put those in… things like this can happen."

"Yeah…" I drawl with a sigh. "I didn't really have that luxury at the time. I was desperate."

"Why didn't you just use those runes of yours to contact someone or break out of the building you were in?" Sirius asks.

"I don't think I could have penetrated the wards," I say. "And I didn't really have time to figure out _how_ he'd worked out his paranoid warding scheme." I make a face. "Look, honestly, I didn't even intend this to happen at all, never mind in _this_ timeline. And I'm not really sure how it happened, because I didn't cast the spell in this timeline."

"Alright, folks," Falcon says, coming up behind us. "Important thing right now is to figure out how to turn this storm off. No sense bemoaning how we got in this situation."

I nod, or try to at least. "I can't even move my arm to write, though. I can barely talk."

Gellert brings out some parchment and a quill. "You dictate. I'll write. You activate the runes."

"Alright," I say, taking a deep breath. "Stormseeker connect."

"Connect?" Gellert repeats, starting to draw. "You mean link?"

"Yeah, that," I say.

Once the runes are written, Gellert pricks my finger and presses it to the parchment, letting a drop of blood soak in. I try to send in a bit of power or link it up or touch it with my magic, but I'm too weak to manage. The blood does the trick, though. The runes begin to glow faintly blue. I can feel the storm.

"It worked," I say. "Let's get into what we actually need to do, then. Define variable—"

"Those aren't runes," Gellert argues.

"Well, use the ones that mean the closest things!" I say. "Define variable, wind speed—"

"Oh gods, this is going to be interesting," Gellert says.

"What even _is_ this?" Sirius wonders.

"Programming," I reply.

"What?" Sirius says.

"You can't just do magic like a computer," Remus argues.

"Yes, I can," I retort.

"How do you know this will even work?" Sirius asks.

"Trust me, alright?" I say. "It feels right."

"What's the next line?" Gellert asks.

"Decrement," I go on. "Timer, hour. Check. If normal, end. Else, repeat."

"Right, I'll put those in a circle," Gellert says, writing.

Sirius stares at the screen. "Fuck me, it looks like it's actually working."

"Anything else?" Gellert asks.

"Yeah," I say. "Move east. Continue. Check location. If ocean, dissipate. Else, repeat."

"Another circle." Gellert keeps writing.

"Storm's moving," Falcon says from behind me.

"Why move it?" Remus asks.

"Damage control," I say. "Some last-ditch attempt to make it look like a normal storm. Spin this off as _not_ some supernatural accident."

"Ah," Remus says. "Good plan."

"One more line," I say. "Restore Stormseeker. Disconnect. End."

Once Gellert gets the lines written down and active, I feel my limbs twitch a little. I flex my fingers experimentally. Still very weak, but at least I can move now. I sure as fuck wouldn't be up to doing any magic, though. The storm's still taking all my power winding down.

"Great," Falcon says. "The lightning's died down. It's starting to turn into a normal rainstorm. We can spin this off as a failure of the Met Office to forecast it."

"Statute of Secrecy upheld?" Remus asks.

Much as I dislike the idea of the Statute of Secrecy, this isn't the way I wanted to bring it down. If the supernatural world were exposed because of a disaster like this, humans would just start off hating us all, and that's no good at all. There'll be a better way.

"The Obliviators' offices might have been destroyed," Sirius says. "Won't find out what the casualties were like for a while." His voice is a little distant, as if he's not entirely sure how concerned he should be about this.

"So. Stormseeker," Falcon says. "Did you just _program_ a storm? Are you sure you weren't a Glass Walker in another life?"

"I wouldn't rule it out," I say with a shrug, glad that I can actually shrug again now. "I really owe you guys, though."

"Oh yeah, I brought these," Gellert says, handing me my lightsaber and my wand. "I figured you'd want them."

"Thanks," I say.

"What's that?" Falcon asks.

I grin wildly and stand up, and ignite the blue beam. "An elegant weapon for a more civilized age."

"A lightsaber?" Falcon says, eyes widening. "Where did you get a lightsaber?"

"I built it." I put it away. "I'll show you my designs later. I definitely owe you that much."

" _You_ are my new best friend."

Gellert laughs aloud. "This guy's possibly the biggest _Star Wars_ fan on the planet. Likes to call himself Lexen Skywalker sometimes."

"Hey, there's no reason Luke Skywalker _couldn't_ have had an illegitimate half-brother," I say.

"You better rest and get some food in you," Remus says. "When was the last time you ate?"

"Must've been twenty-four hours ago," I say.

"I'll go nuke a pizza." Falcon goes off into another room.

I look over at the screen again, at the storm still lightly raging. "I can still feel it. Maybe that's why I couldn't really sleep. Maybe that's why I'm not asleep now. Fuck, what did I even _do_."

"You used a high-powered, completely untested, experimental spell," Gellert says helpfully.

Falcon returns momentarily with a large pizza. "Hope you're not a vegetarian. Got a big meat lover's pizza here."

I grab a piece and begin to devour it, hardly having realized how hungry I was. I could probably eat this whole thing myself, with how much I've been drained of energy. Gellert reaches over and surreptitiously swipes a small piece.

"This was for the Stormseeker, but we do have more pizza," Falcon says. "All the pizza in the world."

"I've been waiting here for hours, and I _did_ perform that locator ritual," Gellert says.

Falcon shrugs. "No worries. Let it not be said that the Glass Walkers are terrible hosts who won't even give free pizza to their guests. Best grab some coffee while you're at it, too. Or tea or Pepsi or whatever your caffeinated poison is. How'd you wind up being called Phoenix, anyway?"

"This girl named Luna called me that and I liked it," Gellert replies.

Falcon raises an eyebrow. "The moon?"

"No, Lovegood," Gellert says. "She's a witch in my class. Well, at least it was my class until the Headmaster told me to fuck off."

"Why did—"

"Phoenix," I interject in between bites. "Have I mentioned yet that you're terrible at storytelling?"

"Hey, I get the point across directly!" Gellert argues. "They're always long stories, with you."

"That's because they _are_ long stories," I say.

Falcon snickers. "Is the Stormseeker a Galliard?"

"The bard type?" I say. "Moony said I was born under the gibbous moon. Still not quite sure what that means, but hey, got all the time in the world."

"I'm a Philodox myself," Falcon says. "Half-moon. Not to inundate you with terminology or anything."

I wave a hand. "I've kind of got it coming, at this point."

"So, which runes did you use, exactly?" Gellert asks.

I tell him.

"Fuck, you used the rune of destruction?" Gellert says, eyes widening. "Drawn in blood at the hour of midnight with a living sacrifice? And no safeguards whatsoever?"

"I tapped into the Ministry of Magic's own ward scheme," I explain. "I'd _intended_ to use that to non-lethally disable those inside." I sigh.

"Instead you caused a cascade eruption throughout the whole ward scheme," Gellert says. "No wonder the storm wound up being so powerful. But how did you so thoroughly hijack the Ministry's defenses to cause this?"

"I used the rune 'access'," I reply.

"There is no such rune," Gellert says. "Is this another of your weird programming terminology things again?"

"Hey, you helped me work on it," I say. "Remember?"

"What," Sirius says. "Wait. You did what? Wait. You just completely invented a new form of magic?"

"I wouldn't really say that," I say. "I was just extending what I saw the others were doing with those rune complexes. The way they kept drawing them out every time, I had to wonder if there was a better way."

Sirius puts his face in his palm. "Okay. So. You took over the Ministry of Magic's defenses because you've developed a new branch of rune magic that, since it did not previously exist, they had no way of defending against."

"Hey, it's just programming," I say. "So to speak. Not my fault wizards don't look at it that way. Everything's all ritual and symbolism that they don't really understand themselves."

Gellert is laughing softly throughout this. "That's the trouble with mages."

"And a good number of Garou, too, for that matter," Falcon adds.

"You can't just invent new spells overnight," Sirius says.

"I didn't," I say. "I just ported a slicing program I've used on computers into rune language."

"But…" Sirius manages. "You can't do that."

"Apparently you can," Gellert laughs. "Odin's fucking eyeball."

"Defining functions is one of the basics of programming," I say. "Otherwise you just wind up having to copy and paste things every time. Or draw it out again from scratch."

Sirius looks over at the screen. "What's going to happen now?"

"I don't know," I say.

"When you said you wanted to take down the Ministry, I didn't think—" Sirius says, then shakes his head. "I don't know what I thought."

"I don't think you could have predicted this," I say. " _I_ couldn't have predicted this." I pause. "For what it's worth, I told Arthur Weasley to get out of there, and he said he'd try to get out whoever would listen."

"Alright, folks," Falcon says once the pizza is gone. "Break time's over. I'm taking my pack down to look for survivors. You guys with me?"

"It's still pretty windy out there," Remus says. "You sure we can make it over there?"

"We have to," Falcon says. "There might be more fomori or Nephandi among the survivors. We're going to need to kill them before they have a chance to recover."

Gellert adds, "Yeah, let's get in there and confiscate any magical artifacts before anyone else can get their hands on them."

"Agreed," Remus says, "We'd best get in there before any Muggles show up on the scene."

"I'm going," I say.

"Are you sure, Harry?" Remus says. "You should probably rest."

"I'm going," I repeat firmly. "Besides, it might help to be closer. Can I take a quick nap first, though?"

Gellert waves his wand at me. " _Stupefy_." The world goes black.

* * *

" _Rennervate_ ," Gellert casts, waking me. "Does that count?"

I snicker softly. "Right then. Let's do this."

The Electric Contracting van is pretty crowded as we drive out into the wind and rain, between my friends, Falcon's pack, and Nine-Toes. I ride up front with Falcon, my finger digging into my knees. Fully alert, energy rushing through me, occasionally crackling. I really hope this vehicle is resistant to random crackling. I'm trying to stay calm here, but sometimes it doesn't really help.

"What was up with the stunning thing?" Falcon asks.

"To reset when I'll go back to if I die," I say. "Don't want to go back to before I dealt with the storm. Time travel takes energy, and it might have drained me enough that I couldn't be lucid enough to manage it again."

There was a time I'd have been more reticent to give out this information. Now, though? If the Glass Walkers have it out for me, I'm already fucked anyway. Besides, they rescued me and I probably owe them much more than my life.

We approach the epicenter of the disaster area. The streets are in chaos. Debris lays smashed across the pavement. A red car wrapped around a pole. A blue car lodged halfway up a large tree. Regardless of my intentions getting innocents out of the area, far more bystanders have been hurt, even Muggles. They had no part in this. They had no idea what was doing on. It's the Muggles I'm really feeling guilty about.

When I cast that spell, I expected I'd wind up in a new timeline where it didn't happen. Having to deal with the consequences of my own foolishness is humbling sometimes. Cursing my own carelessness. My own recklessness. My willingness to throw away timelines, as if it didn't matter what happened in them so long as I wasn't in it. I let out a ragged sigh.

A hand gently squeezes my trembling shoulder. I glance back to see Remus and give him a weak smile.

As we grow closer to the center, the devastation grows more and more immense. I have to wonder if anything could have survived this. Damnit. Even if it weren't for the people, there were probably valuable resources in there that I wanted to get my hands on. Secret knowledge, information that might help me find the Nexus. Far from a great victory, this has been a great setback.

"I don't even want to count the bodies," Sirius says quietly.

"We can leave that duty to someone else," Remus assures him.

Falcon parks the van a block away, and we all climb out. I'm immediately soaked to my skin in frigid rain.

A middle-aged woman pokes her head out of the door of the building we're parked next to. "Thank God you're here!" she calls into the wind. "I'm the landlady. The power is out in my building. I didn't think anyone was going to come to fix this until the storm blew over!"

"I'll see what I can do," Digit says, going over to the building.

"Good!" the landlady says. "I like to see a woman who knows what she's doing!"

"I'm sure she can handle it," Falcon says, waving them off. "We're going to go assess the damage and see if anyone else needs help."

"Good luck!" the landlady yells. "That one was a real doozy!" She looks over to me and Gellert. "And you kids better get inside!"

She doesn't notice Rispy. He's probably doing his house-elf invisibility thing again.

As the two women head inside, the rest of us fan out and approach the place where the storm originated.

The Ministry of Magic is now a hole in the ground.

Any hope I once had of being their hero or taking over legitimately is gone in one fell swoop. Everyone knew I was planning to attack the Ministry. Everyone will know that this was my doing. I've made myself the next He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

"There might be parts of some of the floors intact, still, but it doesn't look very stable," Remus says. "Going down there could be very dangerous."

"Gotta be done, though," Sirius says.

"Some magical artifacts will have their own warding scheme," Gellert says. "They wouldn't have been affected by this and might still be intact."

"And there might be _people_ alive in there, too," Sirius points out.

"And things that might have once been people," Falcon adds.

"Let me put up a few wards first so we don't get anyone else wandering in," Gellert says, pulling out his wand. "Harry, try not to blow up these ones."

"I'm not sure they'd really want to come in here anyway," Sirius says.

"Don't underestimate humans," Falcon says.

"Alright, we're good to go," Gellert says.

Funny how the Glass Walkers haven't questioned Gellert's apparent skill. They probably think he's another time traveler. I suppose that wouldn't be too far off the mark. Considering that the Garou can apparently smell 'Wyrm corruption', it's probably a damned good thing we performed the Ritual of Purification when we did. And if Sirius and Remus are at all apprehensive about it, they've put it aside for the sake of dealing with the current disaster.

"Let's split up to cover more ground and go in threes," I suggest.

"I'm with the Stormseeker," Rispy says.

Falcon nods. "Good plan."

With Digit busy elsewhere, our group is at nine. I'm feeling fortunate. Sirius, Remus, and Nine-Toes head off in one direction, Gellert, Crowbar, and Sledgehammer in another. With Falcon and Rispy at my side, I head down into the bowels of the Ministry building.

The creaking ceiling of the lower floors feels like it might collapse on top of us at any moment. I don't think my shield skills are up to that, but maybe… I pull out my wand and use it to carefully etch a stability rune on the ceiling. I don't like drawing runes with a wand, but I can't reach it otherwise, and best to use a method that won't wipe off too easily.

"Haven't you done enough damage with those runes of yours?" Falcon asks.

"I'm trying to keep it from collapsing on our heads," I reply.

"Better get the floor, too," Rispy says.

"Ah, right, good point," I say, doing so.

"And if all else fails, I can pop us out of here at a moment's notice," Rispy says. "The wards weren't designed to stop house-elves, even when they were working properly. Just stay close."

The body of a woman in a pink sweater lays on the floor. Still alive, hear arms twitch faintly and her chest rises and falls with ragged breaths.

"Can you pop survivors out to St. Mungo's, too?" I ask.

Rispy nods. There's a loud bang, but it's not Rispy disappearing. And, I take a quick look up, it's fortunately not the ceiling collapsing either. Falcon stands over the woman's body with a gun pointed at her.

"Falcon!" I snap. "Why'd you kill her?"

"She stank of the Wyrm," Falcon replies.

"Is that the excuse?" I say.

"She was possessed," Falcon says.

"Can you be sure of that?" I ask.

"She was turning into a toad!" Falcon retorts.

I blink. "Normally witches threaten to turn people into toads, rather than turning into toads themselves, but okay. If we run across anyone that _isn't_ possessed, can we rescue them? You know, notwithstanding that they weren't smart enough to get out when I kept warning them to, and condoned whatever else the Ministry was doing."

"You're painfully forgiving, but okay," Falcon says.

"I really wasn't trying to destroy this building," I say, continuing on. "I just wanted to put an end to a corrupt government of people, who— well, I suppose in your terminology, you'd say people who align themselves with the Wyrm, am I right?"

"Bingo," Falcon says. "I'm not gonna shed any tears over the likes of them, but the collateral damage is unfortunate."

The lower levels aren't nearly as badly damaged. I hadn't been able to get runes up down this far, however, the ceiling sags in a few places where the upper floors collapsed, and debris clogs some of the hallways. Rispy takes one man we found unconscious out to St. Mungo's and returns.

"I'd been wondering if the wizards would ever get around to overthrowing their government," Falcon comments. "We didn't like having the Ministry of Magic as neighbors, but there wasn't an awful lot we could do about it. They mostly kept their corruption to themselves and helped uphold what they called the 'Statute of Secrecy'. Why do you hang around wizards, anyway?"

"Some of them are my friends," I say. "And most of them aren't bad people."

Falcon grunts. "Suppose so. But you're a Garou. You _are_ a Garou, aren't you?"

"Maybe?" I say. "I'm a shapeshifter, at any rate."

"Good enough for me," Falcon says. "What sort?"

"I don't know," I say.

Falcon raises an eyebrow. "How can you know you're a shapeshifter but not know what sort?"

"I didn't even know I _was_ until a vampire told me," I say. "Name of Falk. He mentioned the Glass Walkers, I think."

"Oh, yeah," Falcon says. "We call him Trigger."

"I could imagine that having a Falk and a Falcon around might get confusing," I say.

"You have no idea," Falcon says with a snicker. "Trigger's one odd duck of a leech. He'd rather hang around with us than his own sort. And he said you're a shapeshifter?"

"Saw it in my aura, yeah," I say with a shrug.

"And you have no idea what," Falcon says. "You must have _some_ idea."

"I've forgotten almost everything," I say with a sigh. "Though I think I figured out a way to reclaim it. It seems to come back to mind when I narrate it, like a little at a time, never seeing more than a few feet ahead of me, but I could make the whole journey that way."

"So, get you an audience and a whole vat of popcorn and you can tell us the story of your life?" Falcon says.

I grin. "I'd love to."

Falcon stops and shoots another body. "You certainly don't want to be hanging out with any wizards after this if you can help it."

"Possessed?" I ask, and he nods. "I was hanging out with them in the first place because I vaguely remembered having done so in another life." I sigh. "And while some of my friends might be horrified at what I've done, some of them will still support me regardless."

"Well, not to worry," Falcon says. "The Glass Walkers will welcome you."

I think back, frowning. "I was a little confused by the existence of Garou at first. Well, not the existence, but, the… how _werewolves_ were." I take a deep breath. "I remember another timeline, where lycanthropy was a disease. Werewolves weren't born, they were bitten and infected."

"That's just superstition," Falcon says. "At least in this timeline, You're saying this was literally true in this other timeline?"

I nod. "Moony had to take a potion every month to avoid losing his mind in feral rage. And—"

A flash of memory, a sliver of moonlight sharp as a blade.

"I was infected," I say. "He bit me. By accident."

The scent of blood. I clench my eyes shut and shudder.

"I remember the moon calling to me. I remember changing. I—"

Heart pounding. Blood burning. I remember it _so clearly_ , probably even more clearly than I had at the time. Every feeling, every scent. My eyes snap open. Falcon is looking at me, half curious and half worried.

"You okay there?" Falcon says.

"Sorry," I say. "That was one hell of a memory."

"I would imagine," Falcon says. "Are you sure that it really _was_ an infection, and that the trauma didn't just trigger your First Change?"

"Yeah," I say, then add. "Probably. I mean, neither of us had any control over our transformations."

I realize pain is biting into my palms, and I open my clenched fists. My fingers end in sharp claws, and have pierced small holes in my palms, blood dripping out.

"Not that I have any control over it _now_ ," I grumble.

"Well," Falcon says, examining my hands. "It's a start?"

As we move on to the next section of hallway, I realize that it is incredibly hard to wield a wand with claws, and I don't know how to change them back. I give up and put the wand away, and just scratch the stabilize rune into the floor with a claw. I'll just have to hope the ceiling doesn't collapse on top of us, because there's no way I can reach up there.

"My life is nothing but complications," I mutter.

"So, if it really was just an infection in that universe, do you suppose it might have been reflected in this universe?" Falcon asks.

"I have no idea how this alternate universe stuff even works," I say. I jerk a clawed thumb at Rispy. "He knows, and he's not talking."

"Yup," Rispy says helpfully.

"Bastard." I chuckle.

"I don't, really," Rispy says. "I've just seen a lot of universes. I've seen patterns, deviations, and reflections, but I don't know how any of it _works_. I'm glad you're starting to remember things, though."

"Bit by bit," I say. I cock my head. "I hear someone."

A pile of debris has blocked a door. From inside, a woman's muffled voice calls for help. I rush over and try to pull the debris away from the door with clawed hands, and Falcon helps. We manage to get the door open and step inside. A handful of people have been trapped in this meeting room.

A panicked woman sighs in relief. "Oh, thank Merlin someone came!"

"I don't think Merlin had anything to do with it," I comment.

An elderly man in a snappy pinstripe robe is tucked away in a corner, hugging his knees to his chest, rocking back and forth slowly and uttering, "The wind… the wind… the wind…"

Falcon looks around the room critically, and I tense, wondering if he's going to shoot anyone this time, or just wait for an opportunity to tear their heads off when nobody else is looking. I wonder if I can really sense things like a werewolf does. That memory was very clear, and I can certainly sense the Force, dark or light.

"Are you guys alright?" I ask.

A middle-aged man in a crimson robe looks to me, eyes widening. "It's you! It's the Dark Lord!"

"I—"

He looks to the others. "He's here to torture us and finish the job!"

I suddenly feel no antipathy toward Tom for his overuse of memory modification charms. "Oh, for love of—"

A wand is in his hand in an eyeblink, but my lightsaber is out before he can get a spell off. I block the curse, a sputtering flash of light that ricochets in a crash against the far wall. It's awkward wielding a lightsaber with claws, too, but at it's more manageable than a wand.

"Are you insane?" I demand. "If you think I'm some Dark Lord here to destroy you, what do you think you're going to accomplish by angering me?"

The woman meeps and scuttles backward, and the other two men hide behind the table, but the red-robed man won't back down.

"I think I'm going to put you down where you stand!" the man growls. "If I have to take the fall to make sure nobody else suffers, then so be it! I stood by while You-Know-Who tore across Britain. I'm not going to stand by again!"

I block another curse. He's too angry to even aim properly. I glance aside to Falcon in silent question, even though I can readily sense myself nothing dark in this room.

"Yeah, they're clean," Falcon says quietly.

"Stand down," I tell the red-robed man firmly. "I didn't rescue you just to kill you."

"What do you want of us?" he demands. "Do you think we're going to be your willing slaves out of gratitude for being saved from the disaster you caused yourself?"

I swish my lightsaber through the air awkwardly. " _Stupefy_."

The red-robed man blocks my weak stunner with a quick shield. "You're not taking me prisoner! You won't drag me back to your lair to torture and interrogate!"

I have to roll my eyes and sigh. "What, exactly, are you trying to accomplish here?"

Another curse smashes against my lightsaber. At least my blocking reflexes are still sharp. One clumsy opponent isn't that much of a threat to me, but it wouldn't do to get complacent. I'd like to stun him but spells are awkward to cast with a lightsaber because of the necessary wand movements.

That doesn't really help me right at this moment, though, but it's definitely an interesting thought. I block a badly-aimed hex. I do need to disable this man before he gets lucky.

" _Stupefy_ ," I cast again, but he dodges. " _Stupefy!_ " He dodges again. "Oh for fuck's sake, either stand down or stand still and be glad I'm not throwing around Killing Curses."

Falcon chuckles. "You want a hand here?"

"It's not my fault I'm short on ways to deal with people non-lethally," I say. "I know a million ways to _kill_ people."

"Damnit, Murphy," says one of the other men. "Would you _please_ not try to annoy the mad child any further?"

"You could try talking to him," Rispy puts in.

"Like anyone's going to believe I'm not evil at this point?" I say.

Rispy shrugs.

"Oh, fuck it," I mutter.

I send a light shock of Force Lightning at the red-robed wizard, Murphy presumably, who falls to the floor screaming and falls unconscious. Probably unconscious, at least. I don't think that was enough to kill him, but you never know.

"Alright, folks," I say. "Have I thoroughly made my point yet? You're totally welcome for rescuing you, because not a single one of you could do magic well enough to open the door and clear the debris from in front of it. You're free to go. You want a hand out of here?"

They all hide behind the table.

"I'll take that as a no," I say. "Why did we come down here again?"

I back out of the room and close the door. They can make their own way out once they stop pissing themselves.

"Did you really expect a different response, once they recognized you?" Falcon asks.

"I was kind of completely-not-subtle about intending to attack their building," I admit.

We come to the Department of Mysteries to find the place practically turned inside out, doors ripped from their hinges and walls warped by great force. Gellert is already there examining the place intently, the two large werewolves securing the general area. Several shredded bodies lay strewn and bloody on the floor, some of them not looking entirely human.

"Phoenix, did you come straight here?" I ask.

"Yup," Gellert replies. "Never let an opportunity like this pass me up. Didn't expect the place to be full of fomori, though, but we took care of them."

"So I see," I say.

"Leave it to the Department of Mysteries to experiment with bane spirits," Gellert says. "All the while pretending to be the good guys."

"Color me completely unsurprised," Falcon comments.

"Nice claws, by the way," Gellert says, gesturing to my hands. "They're totally you."

"You find anything interesting in here?" I ask, ignoring him.

"Are you kidding?" Gellert says. "There's nothing _but_ interesting in here. Check this out!" He holds up a tiny hourglass on a chain. "It's a Time-Turner! 'Cept it doesn't work."

I smirk. "I'm guessing you already tried it."

"Nah, I'm not _that_ reckless," Gellert says, putting it away. "I found some notes. All Time-Turners suddenly stopped working in 1933 for no apparent reason. Nobody could ever figure out why. They kept studying them but mostly just wrote it off as magic being weird again."

"The hell is so special about 1933?" I wonder.

Gellert shrugs. "Beats me. Oh, hey, there's a room full of prophecies, too! I'm sure you'd love that." He winks.

I groan. "I hate prophecies. They're such bullshit. You can't actually predict the future because the future isn't set in stone."

"But what if a prophecy is true for whichever timeline it winds up in?" Gellert says, grinning widely.

"Now you're just messing with me," I say.

"I found a prophecy about _me_ ," Gellert says. "Wanna know what it said?"

"Not really, but I'm sure you're going to tell me anyway," I reply.

Gellert waves a hand. "It's not that bad. It went something like this." He clears his throat. " _When the Stormseeker comes, the Dark Phoenix will be reborn into Light."_

"Oh, come on, are you just making this shit up?" I ask.

"I shit you not," Gellert says.

"This is so stupid," I say. "Were you sifting through prophecies while I was upstairs trying to keep what's left of the structure from collapsing?"

"They've got an index," Gellert says. "I just looked it up. Hate to be some twit wandering around through the aisles with no idea that there's an index somewhere."

"I'm not even going to ask if there were anymore Stormseeker prophecies because I don't want to hear them," I say.

"Not even a little bit curious?" Gellert asks with a grin.

"No," I say firmly.

Gellert shrugs. "Suit yourself. Let me show you the weird doorway!"

He leads the way over toward a large stone archway filled with curtain of black smoke. Whispering mists surrounds it, indistinct voices uttering words I can't quite make out.

"I don't suppose you found any notes on this, too?" I ask.

"Yeah, but they weren't very elucidating," Gellert says. "This thing has been here basically for fucking ever and they've been studying it and found out pretty much nothing beyond that stuff that goes into it doesn't come back out. So says the very helpful note they left for their latest rookie."

"Doorways generally go places," I say. "Presumably there simply isn't an exit from the other side."

"What, not going to suggest that it kills people who go through?" Gellert says. "The notes call it the Veil. They say it goes straight into the realm of the dead."

"Umbral gateway, I'd guess," Falcon says, coming up behind us. "What were these damned mages doing with it I wonder?"

"I'm going to guess 'nothing good', but at this point that's a given," I say.

I wonder if I might be able to use this gateway somehow in order to find a Nexus. Never mind that this is probably an incredibly risky prospect, it was going to be one anyway.

"They probably didn't so much make it as discover it," Falcon says. "And these sorts of things can't really be _moved_. This gateway has most likely been in this same spot for as long as it has existed."

"But _where_ in the Umbra might it go?" I wonder.

"If Phoenix's description there is accurate?" Falcon says. "Straight to the land of the dead? To Stygia? That's in the heart of the Tempest. Even Garou give that place a wide berth. You really don't want to go there if you can help it."

My eyes meet Gellert's knowingly. "Let's ward this room. Can we make sure we can get back here readily but nobody else can get in?"

"Yeah," Gellert says. "Give me a hand with the rune work, will you? Or a claw. Whichever."

Falcon nods. "Best keep it out of the hands of those mages even if you're not going to do anything with it yourself."

I'm not prepared to tell him about what I'm looking for yet. But I think I may have found a way.

A silvery wolf Patronus races into the room and speaks in Remus' voice, "Heads up, Harry! Spirals just arrived on the scene. Jez'kai is with them."

"Fuck," I utter.


	18. Death's Door

"Phoenix, I thought you warded the Ministry area?" I ask.

"I warded it against _Muggles_ ," Gellert replies. "Keeping out wizards or shapeshifters over that large of an area would take more than just a few waves of a wand."

" _Expecto Patronum_ ," I cast, and when the silvery spirit dragon emerges, I tell her, "Please tell Tom to bring anyone willing to shoot at Black Spiral Dancers to the Ministry of Magic posthaste." The dragon nods and vanishes.

"Your patron spirit is a dragon?" Falcon asks.

"Her name's Eternity," I say.

"Who're you bringing in?" Falcon asks.

"Throwing Nephandi at Black Spiral Dancers and hoping they wipe one another out," Gellert says.

"We could be so fortunate," I say.

"They were probably attracted by the chaos here," Falcon says.

"Jez'kai's with them," I say. "He's not _just_ after chaos." I glance over toward the stone archway. "I think he's after _that_."

"What makes you say that?" Falcon wonders.

"Paranoia?" Gellert suggests.

"I have a hunch," I say.

"Do you think he found out about the thing?" Gellert asks.

"He might just want to kick some wizard ass," I say. "We did wipe the floor with him pretty badly at Hogsmeade last Samhain."

"The second time we did, you mean," Gellert corrects me.

"What thing?" Falcon wonders.

"A thing that would be so dangerous for him to find out about that I don't even want to speak of details aloud," I say. "I'm _that paranoid_." I take a deep breath. "Falcon, are kitsune a thing?"

Falcon blinks. "Yeah, don't see them much in this part of the world, of course, but I've heard tell of them. Why?"

"A mage I knew was looking for a kitsune by the name of Fantasia," I say.

"Oh, her?" Falcon says. "Yeah, she's a singer over in the States. Got a band named Moontide."

My blood goes cold.

"That must be why Jez'kai's been being way more aggressive than usual lately," Rispy says. "And not just because of Falk's presence."

"Care to fill me in?" Falcon asks.

"The mage in question was the one responsible for my first death," I explain. "Calls himself Sedder 'the Shadow'. After a long, long time and a bunch of weird shit, I ran into him again, and he claimed to be less crazy-evil. Not sure how much I believed that, but at least he wasn't trying to kill me. Before we parted ways again, he said he was going looking for a kitsune named Fantasia, who, in some other timeline, he'd been in love with."

"I'm still not following how that's related to Jez'kai and this doorway," Falcon says.

"Sedder used to be second-in-command of a group of crazy-evil mages called Tempest," I continue. "Their headquarters was located in a stable pocket deep in the Umbra, inside the Tempest." I clench my eyes shut and make a face, and go on reluctantly, "They called it Drakanna. And it contained a powerful construct called a Nexus, capable of allowing access to… anywhere."

" _That_ was the thing you've been trying to keep secret?" Falcon says. "Fuck. You think Jez'kai has learned of it?"

"Sedder once, in another future, made a bargain with Jez'kai to give him Fantasia as his slave," I say. "He could have done it again. Or if not directly, may have let it slip inadvertently somehow. I'm not sure how much faith I have in his apparent reform, but he didn't have to tell Jez'kai about it _intentionally_. He might just have been very indiscreet about it."

Gellert straightens. "I've gotten in the best warding scheme I can manage on short notice. That might at least slow them down a bit."

Tom's dog Patronus leaps into the room. "Tempest is in position. The opposition is fierce. We're greatly outnumbered."

I summon Eternity again with a thought of joy and rainbows. "Take a message to Tom. Tell them, _hold the line_. Jez'kai must not be allowed into the Department of Mysteries. Use lethal force. Hold nothing back. Cast Unforgiveables if you're able to. Let nothing get through."

The shimmering dragon nods, and darts off again.

"Phoenix," I breathe. "I think I need another nap."

Gellert stuns me and revives me again.

"Stormseeker," Gellert says gently. "You're shaking. Crackling again, even."

I nod. "Better believe it. I know what's at stake here. I can't even be sure that the Nexus won't give him access to other timelines and other _universes_."

"Come on," Gellert says. "Let's get some more defenses up on the way in. There's only one way into the Department of Mysteries."

We go out to start setting up more wards and traps in the rooms and corridors leading to the Veil. Crowbar and Sledgehammer take positions ahead of us.

"Can you get a message to the Glass Walkers, too?" Falcon asks.

"I don't know any of them but you," I say.

"Digit," Falcon says.

I nod tersely, and summon Eternity once more. "If Digit is alone, can you please tell her the Black Spiral Dancers are here and to contact the Glass Walkers?"

Once again, she nods in acknowledgment and heads off. At least having the presence of a Patronus for a minute is enough to calm me and make me feel like the situation is a little less hopeless.

"Kind of wishing at this point that I didn't shore up the floors above this one with stability runes," I say as I scratch more runes into the walls with my claws. "Collapsing the whole thing is sounding pretty good about now."

"I wouldn't discount them digging the gateway out if Jez'kai wants it that badly," Falcon says. "Provided he even knows it's here and what it is."

"He could be after the Time-Turners, the prophecies, or anything else down here, too," Gellert says.

"The Time-Turners don't work, but yes, I'd rather not give him the chance of finding a way to make them work, either," I say. "As for the prophecies, fuck if I know."

"I think I saw mention of a room where they were studying the Power of Love," Gellert says wryly. "I'm sure the Black Spiral Dancers would just kill to figure that out."

I put my face in my palm, and almost poke an eye out.

"But yeah, no need to be paranoid about _just_ the Nexus to keep him out of here," Gellert says. "Think I'll go transfigure some silver spikes."

"I wonder if I can still connect to my access runes," I muse.

"If you're going to try linking to them again, do it in something you can easily wipe off or at _least_ put in some more safeguards," Gellert says.

"I can't handle chalk with these things." I flex my claws.

"Then be careful," Gellert says. "I'll be annoyed if you blow me up." He steps out into the corridor and continues his work.

I scratch into the wall the runes, 'Stormseeker connect', then 'sight focus'. Not nearly as much of the structure is capable of sending me information, but I've still got a view of several locations around the Ministry ruins.

Bodies litter the ruins in the pouring rain, some of them torn to bloody shreds and others without a mark on them. Some of the werewolves have reverted to human form upon dying, but most remain as large wolf-men laying on the ground. Are they really dead, or what?

"Quick question," I say, raising a hand. "Do shapeshifters revert to human form when they die?"

"We revert to breed form," Falcon says. "That's human for those of us born from a Garou and a human. A lot of the Spirals are metis, though—both parents were Garou. That's their natural form, and they'll stay in it when they die. Really complicates cleanup. Can't let the humans see 'werewolf' bodies."

I consider, briefly, trying to channel some sort of attack through my remaining runes, shooting silver spines at them or even turning the rain to liquid silver. I dismiss the former thought as being difficult and impractical and the latter as being ridiculously dangerous. Tempest is tangled up with them, too. I'm not sure what I could even cast that would hurt werewolves but not wizards.

The whole scene is silent for me, since I'm receiving only visuals and not sounds. With a few safety runes, I add sound to my rune complex. I wince at the sudden cacophony echoing through my mind. Feral growls meet shouted curses. There's not enough wizards here by far. While some bodies are accounted for, I can tell full well that some of my supposed army has fled the scene. I glance around the area to see if they've decided to do anything useful like snipe from a safe position, but nope. They're nowhere I can detect.

I spot Snape, throwing curses at werewolves. I didn't expect to see him here. Shouldn't he be teaching classes? No, wait, it's Sunday. Tom must have notified him. Still, I need more troops on the field. I could really use Falk about now, but it's morning, and the sun is up. I'm not sure that I dare call on Dumbledore. I hope those Glass Walkers get in quick. I should be out there fighting, but I need to protect the Department of Mysteries and, at best, build a defensible position here.

" _Expecto Patronum_ ," I cast, letting my nervousness turn into hope with a thought of a happy eternity. The dragon spirit looks at me expectantly again, infinitely patient. "Please go find Dumbledore. Tell him…" I put my face in my palm and sigh. "I don't even know what to tell him. I need his help. Black Spiral Dancers are attacking the Ministry of Magic building. The situation is dire and the world could be in great danger."

The dragon nudges my shoulder gently, reassuringly, and goes off to deliver her message.

"Is it that bad up there?" Gellert asks, glancing over from his work in the hallway.

"Yes," I reply.

Another former Death Eater torn apart by a werewolf. A pawn taken by the enemy. I can't see them as people right now. My mind is firmly in battle mode. Right now, I need to be cold and calculating, and not freaking out, no matter what the stakes are, no matter how many lives are lost. I can only hope that this doesn't wind up becoming a repeat of Malachor V, with catastrophic losses on both sides. In hindsight, that one had also been a terrible idea. It's hard to focus with this much sensory input, even _with_ the runes to assist in that. I have to help them somehow.

A brilliant ghost of a phoenix flies into the room and speaks in Dumbledore's voice, "I shall come."

"Incoming!" Gellert calls.

"Yes, he's—" I begin.

Snarling, screeching calls from outside the door. I ignite my lightsaber and charge out. A single straggler had broken through the battle lines, a runt of a werewolf, now dangling from a horrible spiked silver chain.

"You've been busy, Phoenix," I comment to Gellert.

"Traps work," Gellert says proudly. "Well. Trap, That was the only one I had time to transfigure."

With a twirl of his wand, the chains twist and drop the hapless Black Spiral Dancer unceremoniously to the floor. I lunge in and slice off its head with my lightsaber before it can try to get up again.

I go back to my sight rune and scratch 'dim' next to it. The vision of the battle up top and in the upper floors fades to a distant awareness. I don't need the distraction right now.

The runt isn't the last one. The next attack comes in a pack, and Gellert's clever chain trap can only stop one of them. Gellert ignites his lightsaber, and the three Glass Walkers pull out silver swords I hadn't realized they were carrying. Gellert spends more time slinging Killing Curses down his lightsaber than actually hitting anything with it, though. I hope he's careful where he aims those.

A clawed paw descends on my shoulder, too fast to dodge, too many of them. Pain. Blood. I stumble. There's too many of them. They keep coming. How the fuck many werewolves did Jez'kai _bring_?

"Fall back!" I order.

We withdraw inside the room next to the room with the doorway and take up positions. I'm hoping that Gellert's defenses will help here.

Heart pounding. Losing blood. Lightheaded. I stumble. Claws come down on my face. The pain comes to a swift end.

* * *

I wake on the floor of the gateway chamber. Not wasting a single second, I hoist my lightsaber and cast the Patronus Charm to send Eternity off to contact Digit and Dumbledore. Gellert has the same idea, rushing out into the hallway to start rebuilding his defenses again.

"That could have gone better," I comment, joining him, barely giving a glance to Dumbledore's Patronus showing up and saying the same thing it did before.

"You might want to be closer to the ground if you're going to keep having him stun you," Falcon says with a touch of amusement. "You might've hit your head there."

I snort softly. "That wasn't what I meant. I just died and came back in time like an hour. They came down here and we were overwhelmed."

"On the upside, I was able to see which defenses worked and which really didn't," Gellert says. "I'll put up a better warding scheme this time."

"Do you guys wake up complaining about dying regularly?" Falcon asks.

"You get used to it," Rispy says.

I don't bother with the sight runes this time. I don't need to know what's going on up there. Either Tom can handle it or he can't, but either way I've done all I can and it was a potentially deadly distraction I can't afford to repeat.

"I'd ask for how it works, but we're probably all going to die horribly again and you'd just have to repeat yourself, so how about you give me more of an explanation when and if we survive this battle?" Falcon says wryly.

"Will do," I say. "And thanks."

Between runes, spells, and transfiguration, maybe we'll have something resembling a defense by the time they get here.

"You see what I mean about drawing them out every time, Phoenix?" I say. "It's much more efficient to draw them up once and use a shorter sequence to trigger it."

"But it's a lot less flexible that way, though," Gellert says.

"And how often do you wind up wanting to do pretty much the same thing over and over?" I ask.

"You realize this is the mentality that led to spell creation over rituals?" Gellert asks.

I blink. "Well, I suppose so. But I'd still want to write _my_ spells, so that I know exactly what they're doing, and if they fuck up catastrophically I only have myself to blame."

"Just so long as you realize that, Stormseeker," Gellert says with a grin.

After a while, once again, the Black Spiral Dancers start coming down the hall. Gellert's traps shoot silver spikes at them, and gouts of flame erupt from the floor. Blades of light and silver strike down as many foes as they can. But each werewolf is a tough fight in and of itself, if Gellert doesn't get a lucky shot off with a Killing Curse. They dodge most of our ranged attacks. It's like wading into a pack of rancors. And fighting fair, or even just slightly unfairly, isn't going to cut it.

Slavering jaws snap in and rip my throat out.

* * *

I wake up and put my hand to my clean throat self-consciously. No matter how many times I die, it always takes a moment to realize I'm no longer dead and in terrible pain. I send out my Patronus again and head out into the hallway. Between everything, this whole battle is seriously starting to wear on me. I think at this point I'm purely running off of adrenaline and the Force.

"Let's not give them a fair fight," I say. "How many explosives do we have on hand?"

"I don't think we have any," Falcon says.

"Damnit, I don't have any on hand, or even at home, either," I say. "Why in the galaxy am I not keeping around enough explosives to blow up half of London on a whim?"

"Because you like London?" Gellert suggests.

"Nah, I like Cardiff," I say. "London's a dump. Nothing good ever happens in London."

"But your favorite pub is in London!" Gellert says.

"That barely counts," I say. "And Knockturn Alley might as well not even be in London."

Rispy clears his throat.

"Right, let's blow up half of London," I say.

"You already did that," Gellert says.

"Let's blow up _this hallway_ ," I specify. "And in the absence of vast quantities of incendiary devices, we're just going to have to use magic." I glance back toward the werewolves. "You guys might want to stand back, just in case we blow ourselves up accidentally."

"Have I mentioned before that you're insane?" Falcon says with a smirk.

Rispy snickers. "I used to tell him that all the time. I think I kind of got used to it after a while."

"Me being insane didn't stop being a thing just because you stopped mentioning it all the time, Rispy," I say.

"Although what does it say about me that I got so used to it that just didn't really seem remarkable anymore?" Rispy wonders. "I think at this point we just need to recruit a sane man."

"That'll be a tough one," I say. "What sane man would want to hang around with us for eternity?"

"And stay sane in the process," Gellert adds.

I finish scratching another rune in as I hear the first werewolf loping toward us, breathing wetly. Gellert finishes transfiguring another silver spike on the ceiling.

"Wait for it," I say. "This is just the 'vanguard', a dumbass runt who ran ahead of the pack. Let's finish him off and wait for his buddies to get here."

We make short work of the runt, and get into position to prepare for my excessively explosive solution. We take cover just past the entrance and wait.

I hear them scrabbling down the hallway. I feel them running across the runes. Then, when the first werewolf in the pack reaches the closest rune, I send an activation pulse into them. A terrible explosion rocks the building, shaking the walls we're hiding behind and almost bringing those down as well. A great crashing sound echoes through the Department of Mysteries as the entire ceiling in the corridor outside it collapses, dropping tons of stone on top of a hapless pack of Black Spiral Dancers. And also setting them on fire for good measure.

The dust settles and the air goes quiet but for some werewolves still somehow alive and growling, trying to claw their way out.

"Right then," I mutter. "Let's go finish off the survivors before they regenerate or climb out of there. Clearly next time I'm going to need to explode them _more_. Somehow."

"More silver spikes," Gellert adds.

If nothing else, at least the ceiling collapse disabled them enough that we can stick blades into them without them ripping our faces off. Fuck, I've seen rancors take less of a beating than this.

"Okay, well, if anyone else shows up…" I look up at the remains of a ceiling a few floors up. "Or manages to get down here at all—"

"They'll just do the superhero landing," Gellert says.

"—then we'll have to fight them the hard way."

"I'll see about transfiguring as many silver spikes for them to land on as I can before anyone else shows up," Gellert says cheerfully.

"Stormseeker," Falcon says. "I would have thought you'd have caused enough property damage to this poor building by now."

"At this point, what's one more hallway?" I say with a smirk.

"Incoming!" Gellert calls.

Gellert takes a step back as a werewolf jumps down three floors and gets a silver spike impaled up a paw. The creature howls in pain, and I nearly bisect it with my lightsaber before it recovers. Gellert swipes its head off with his own. The second and third werewolves don't go down as easily, though, and by the time the sixth one shows up, we're falling back to the Veil room. Crowbar is badly wounded and can hardly stand, and Sledgehammer has very nearly lost an arm.

"This isn't working," I say. "I'm really starting to hate these things."

"Welcome to our world," Falcon says.

"Much as I hate to say this," I say. "I think we need to quit playing around with these things."

"This is playing around?" Falcon wonders.

"Anything short of mass destruction is playing around," I comment.

"You destroyed the hallway!" Falcon exclaims.

"Another pack coming," Rispy says.

"Well, it was nice knowing you," Falcon says. "See you in the next loop, I guess."

There are six in the next pack, and one of them is Jez'kai. He comes in behind them, grinning madly.

"Did you really think you could stop me?" Jez'kai asks. "The Nexus shall be mine."

The werewolves overwhelm us and one of them takes off my head.

* * *

I wake, flagging and exhausted, and stagger to my feet. I bring out my Patronus and call in Digit and Dumbledore one more time. I can't tell from down here if it's doing any good, but _someone_ needs to mop up those Black Spiral Dancers and try to cover this all up.

"Fuck," I say. "He _does_ know about the Nexus."

"What?" Falcon says.

"Just died, what was it, three times?" I say, going out into the hallway.

"Think so," Gellert says, following me and heading for the entryway. "It all kind of blurs together into something horrible after a while. I'm going to transfigure some silver blades or something. There were too many of them for one-off spikes and chains to work."

"You're going to have to explain how this all works once this is over," Falcon says.

"Yeah, I promised a previous iteration of you that," I say. "Hmm, was destroying the hallway really worth it?"

"It wiped out the first pack, but they just started jumping down from above," Gellert says.

"We can't afford to make another try," I say. "I've lost too much energy between all that. I doubt I'd even be able to move if we run this another loop."

"Best make this one count, then," Gellert says.

"I can bring in more support if need be," Rispy says. "The building doesn't block house-elf teleportation."

"Get Cassie and Brax on the scene," I say.

"On it." Rispy pops away.

"If I had more time and resources, I'd put in a bunch of spike plates or something," Gellert says. "Why are they so hard to ward out?"

"Probably because we're part spirit as well as flesh," Falcon says with a shrug.

"But _everyone_ has a soul," I say.

"I'd say we should discuss cosmology later, but this could be relevant in my defense schemes," Gellert says. "Is a mage's soul different from a werewolf's spirit?"

"… I really don't know," Falcon says.

"If there's a corrupted spiritual component involved, Patroni might help," I say.

Rispy pops back in, Cassie and Brax in tow. They come over and approach us.

"I take it that you two are not just kids," Falcon says.

"Certainly not," Brax says. "What is your status here? Brief us."

"I'll have to be quick," I say. "A bunch of corrupted werewolves are about to come down that hallway. First one runt, then a pack of four, then a pack of six, and then another six in the last pack but Jez'kai is with that one." I take a deep breath. "We have to stop them from getting to the Umbral gateway inside that room—" I point, "—at all costs."

"Got it," Brax says, pulling out his wand and joining Gellert in transfiguring silver blades.

" _Expecto Patronum_ ," I cast, and Eternity appears again. "I'm hoping Patroni will help with this, so if any of you can cast it, now would be a good time for that."

"At this point, I'll damned well give it another shot," Gellert says.

Cassie says, "I could _almost_ cast it in class."

The runt comes charging down the hallway, slobbering and snarling, and gets impaled on Gellert's spike trap with a bloody squelch.

Brax casts, " _Expecto Patronum_ ," but only mist comes out of his wand.

"They're coming," Rispy says, looking off down the hallway. "Get ready." He heft his lightsaber.

" _Expecto Patronum!_ " Cassie calls out. Ethereal light erupts from her wand, coalescing into a shimmering raven. Cassie beams in joy as she basks in its glow.

"Well done," I say. "Listen up, folks! We must not fail! For the sake of the world, for the sake of our families, for the sake of _freedom_! These monsters would enslave and corrupt the world if they got past us, but _we will hold the line_!"

" _Expecto Patronum_!" Gellert casts.

A shining bird emerges from his wand, a phoenix perhaps, but I don't get a chance to turn and see. The pack has arrived and is bearing down on us. A Killing Curse from Brax takes out one of them, and Gellert's spike trap ensnares another. The Patroni swoop in and give them pause, and while they're struggling with the spirit creatures, the rest of us finish them off.

"That went _so_ much better," I say. "Rispy, before the second pack arrives, can you bring Tom in? The real fight is down here now."

Rispy nods curtly and pops up.

"Jez'kai captured the gateway in at least three timelines," I say, scowling. "I couldn't stop him."

" _We_ couldn't stop him," Gellert says. "That wasn't your failure alone."

I glance over to him and raise an eyebrow, and say distantly, "Your Patronus is a duck."

Gellert grins widely. "So it is. And her name is Liberty."

"Liberty…" I breathe.

"You made me believe in freedom," Gellert says. "You're infectious like that."

Rispy reappears with Tom, and then Remus, Sirius, and Nine-Toes.

"You're not fighting them without me," Sirius says.

"Indeed," Remus agrees.

"Get into position," I say, gesturing. "We've only got a moment before third pack arrives."

Without giving us anymore of a breather, the next pack charges down the corridor at us. Tom and Remus bring in their Patroni to join the others. At least everyone is careful in aiming their spells so as not to hit any friendlies, especially if they're throwing around Killing Curses. The pack goes down with only a minimum of bumps and scratches on our part.

I take in a deep breath. "Alright, folks. Jez'kai's with the next pack. There will be four others with him. I don't know what might come _after_ that. We've never survived that long."

"Something to aspire to," Gellert comments.

"Listen," I say. "If I go down this time, I'm not likely to kindly wake up when you try to revive me. I'll be passed out good, probably for like a fucking week. Just get everyone out of here and explode the whole place if you can."

"Got it," Gellert says.

"I'll prefer to keep this to 'not dying', thanks," Falcon says.

"We'll damned well try," I say. "Me, Rispy, and Falk once took down Jez'kai ourselves, after all. But he was alone at the time, didn't expect me and Rispy, and Falk is practically a one-man army."

"They're coming," Rispy announces.

The pack charges in, with Jez'kai in back. The two groups meet in thunderous clash. Jez'kai immediately turns his attention to those who were up top. Unlike the others, he's in human form, and yet he feels _far_ more dangerous than them despite that.

"You lot certainly got down here quick," Jez'kai says. "More wizarding?"

"Elven magic," Rispy corrects him. "I'm no wizard."

Jez'kai grins toothily. " _I_ am, though." He draws a wand.

Oh _shit_ , he is, isn't he. Dumbledore mentioned that before but it entirely slipped my mind. Almost casually, Jez'kai casts charms to protect his werewolves, and then starts slinging curses at us. While our Patroni are hindering their ability to attack us, now Jez'kai's shields are making it very hard to hurt them. But, we have wizards and werewolves, too, and I'd damned well like to think our wizards are better than him. And for the moment, we outnumber him.

Nix that last. Another group comes down the corridor and spills into the entryway where we're fighting. In the midst of the confusion, Jez'kai singles out Tom.

"You," Jez'kai snarls. "Betrayer. I knew I never should have trusted you."

"It was another life, Greyback," Tom says. "I bear _no_ obligation to you."

"I'm going to kill you slowly, and devour your flesh while you're still screaming," Jez'kai says. "But first, I'm going to get your allies out of the way." He grins toothily. "But let it not be said that I am not gracious. Once last chance. Turn on these humans and join me, and all will be forgiven."

"Fuck you," Tom says. " _Avada Kedavra_."

The Killing Curse splashes against Jez'kai, but the green light doesn't seem to affect him at all.

"What the fuck?" Tom says. " _How_ are you immune to that?"

"Don't even try," Jez'kai says, laughing maniacally. "You cannot defeat me!" He turns to Sirius. " _Crucio!_ "

Sirius falls to the ground crying out in pain.

"No!" Tom snaps, flinging a wordless hex at Jez'kai and disrupting the curse.

"Oh, what is this?" Jez'kai drawls. "Don't tell me you actually have some sort of misguided affection to your pawns now?"

"You will _not_ harm him." Tom sends off a series of curses at Jez'kai.

"You're pathetic!" Jez'kai spits. " _Expelliarmus!_ "

Tom's wand flies out of his hand and goes clattering into a far corner. Remus tries to intervene in the conflict, but he's pulled away by another Black Spiral Dancer, and narrowly avoids losing an arm in the process. Jez'kai points his wand at Sirius, still laying helpless on the ground.

I shoot a blast of Force Lightning toward Jez'kai to try to stun him, but the bulky body of another werewolf gets in my way and winds up shocked instead.

" _Avada_ —" Jez'kai begins.

Too far away. No one can get a clear shot at him. Tom throws himself on top of Sirius.

" _—Kedavra!_ " Jez'kai finishes.

A flash of green. Tom goes limp. A string in my soul goes slack.

"Tom?" Sirius rasps. " _Tom!_ "

Jez'kai scoffs. "It's positively delicious watching you sheep bleat and cry over one another. But you know what happens to sheep, don't you? You become mutton!"

" _Fuck you!_ " Sirius growls. He rolls Tom's body off of him, snatches up his wand, and hurls a curse at the werewolf in one motion.

Upon finishing off the werewolf I was tangling with, I take a survey of the battlefield. Tom's not the only one down, although it's reassuring that I can feel the bond still there. Sledgehammer is on the ground, having reverted to human form. Dead, then. Nine-Toes is missing his lower leg, and may need to change his name. Brax has taken bleeding claw wounds across the face.

"Much as I'd like to stay and toy with you fools all day, and maybe take a nibble or two…" Jez'kai licks his lips. "I have a Nexus to find."

Leaving his minions to keep our attention, Jez'kai darts off toward the Veil room.

"Fuck," I utter, sending forth a pulse of electricity from my body. I evade the werewolves and rush to get there ahead of him.

"Oh, Potter, do you really think you can take me on by yourself?" Jez'kai says, coming in behind me. "You got lucky last time. Your luck has run out this time."

Standing in front of the Veil, I glance back over my shoulder. He walks almost casually, arrogantly, assured of his victory.

My mind races. Time seems to slow to a crawl for a moment, for just a moment. I can't stop him. He's not going to stop to have some glorious one-on-one duel with me, winner take all. All he has to do is push me aside or distract me long enough to slip through the gateway. I could run through the Veil ahead of him. I could try to find the Nexus first. I need that Nexus myself. I need to get in there and secure it.

But it's not worth the risk.

I turn to the gateway and raise my blue lightsaber.

There is no temptation. There is only choice. I will find another way.

Sweeping from left to right, I slash my blade through the archway.

Jez'kai cries, "What are you doing!?"

At first I'm not sure that my lightsaber will cut it, but it does indeed burn through the stone, slower than I might have hoped with Jez'kai bearing down on me. Then, it breaks through to the other side. The voices of the damned scream, not whisper, in my ears. Like a knife through black velvet, like a blade of light through oblivion, I strike the right side of the archway.

"Fool!" Jez'kai growls. "Stop!"

Gritting my teeth, I slice through the other side of the archway. I glance over my shoulder at the approaching angry werewolf, and reach around to give the archway a hard push. The heavy stone archway tips and falls as Jez'kai looks on with wide-eyed horror. He grabs a hold of it to try to stop it, but the ethereal mists are already dissipating.

"This is only a setback," Jez'kai snarls. "You'll pay for crossing me. You'll pay in blood and pain."

"Acceptable," I manage, stumbling to the ground in exhaustion.

" _Crucio!_ " Jez'kai casts.

My whole body burns in sheer agony from the inside out. I scream—it's all i can do. I drop my lightsaber and curl up in a fetal position in pain. The world is spinning. My head is swimming.

"Beg, boy," Jez'kai demands. "Beg for mercy."

I begin to laugh hoarsely. "No. More." Blood soaks my robes from where I'd punctured myself with my claws.

"What's that?" Jez'kai says. "No more?"

I laugh madly. "No. Give me more. Blood and pain is a small price to pay and I will gladly pay it."

" _Crucio!_ " Jez'kai casts again, bringing another wave of searing pain upon me. "You can handle being tortured yourself, but what will you do to stop me from hurting your friends?"

I snort softly. "Don't think this is the first time I've heard anyone threaten my friends. They can take care of themselves."

At the moment, they can probably handle it better than me. I can't even stand right now. I can still distantly hear fighting out there. I hope they're doing alright. I haven't felt anyone else die. I could really use some help right now. But so long as he's amusing himself torturing me, he's not causing any real problems.

" _Crucio!_ "

And at this point, I almost welcome the pain. It's consuming my world. I am so very, very tired.

Jez'kai strides up to me and rolls me over with a boot. I blink up at him, blood running down my face from self-inflicted wounds.

"Why do you defy me?" Jez'kai asks. "We could have ruled the multiverse together."

"No," I say. "We couldn't have. _You_ would accept no place in any relationship but 'master'. And I will accept no one as my master."

Nothing I have seen suggests that he is all that different from my vision of the failed future.

"I see," Jez'kai says. "I could break you, you know. Force you to bow to me. How much torture do you think it would take?"

I rasp out a laugh. "You could torture me for a million years and you would not make me stop believing in freedom. You might think I gave in, but I never truly would. My mind, heart, and soul will _never be yours_."

"Is that so," Jez'kai drawls. " _Crucio!_ "

I finally black out in torment.


	19. Claws

I wake slowly. A lingering dull ache sits in my bones, but I hear no shouts of battle, so I decide I don't actually want to move just yet. After a minute, I open my eyes tentatively. My room in Caer Danas. I'll take that as probably a good sign and relax. At least a sign that I don't need to repeat that battle again.

Slowly, I climb out of bed, and stretch. And almost scratch myself with my claws. Right, damnit, those things are still there. How long was I out, I wonder? I close my eyes and try to reach out with my sense of Time. Three turning wheels: the Earth, the Moon, and the Sun. Two hours past dawn, two days past the new moon, between Imbolc and the Vernal Equinox. That would make it February 23rd. I was out for nine days? Damnit, it would just figure. I would have expected to be hungrier, though. Either someone cast a spell over me to sustain me, or my own magic did that itself.

The whole event was something of a blur. I have no idea what actually happened in the final timeline, even before I blacked out. The only thing I'm sure of was that I destroyed the Umbral gateway. Assuming I didn't die and reset after that and that this timeline was one where I couldn't wake up and we withdrew from the Ministry. Well, nothing to be done but to go out and find out.

"Good, you're awake," Rispy says, standing at the foot of the bed.

"Were you watching me the whole time?" I ask.

Rispy shakes his head. "Not directly, though I did keep an eye on you."

"How did the battle go?" I ask. "No, wait, more importantly, did I reset or just go unconscious?"

"The latter," Rispy says. "I extracted you to make sure you didn't reset again."

I nod. "Thanks. Are we in immediate danger of attack?"

"Doubtful," Rispy says. "The Black Spiral Dancers have vanished into the woodwork again, for the moment."

"In that case," I say. "I'm going to go eat half a pig and drink a vat of coffee."

After making sure I'm not naked, I head out to the dining room. Sirius and Remus are there eating breakfast quietly. 

Remus looks over to me and gives me a weak smile. "Look who's decided to rejoin us."

Before I even take a seat, there's a plateful of bacon and sausage and a large cup of coffee in front of me. Dobby must have heard my breakfast request.

"Can't say I recall ever having been out for quite that long before." I try to pick up a fork with claws, can't quite manage, and just pick up the sausage and eat it. "Fuck, that was a mess."

"You're telling me," Sirius says. "I'm still not sure what to think of it all."

"You guys are going to have to fill me in on what exactly went down," I say. "I was absent for the fight up top, and I went through so many iterations of the fight in the Department of Mysteries that I'm not even sure—"

I see Sirius' distant expression and go quiet.

"Tom's dead," Sirius says, looking down at his cup. "He died saving me from a Killing Curse."

I close my eyes and let out a heavy breath. "I'm sorry."

Sirius shakes his head. "If anything, I should be the one apologizing. You trusted him. You insisted that he could be trusted, even though he modified our memories. And I doubted you."

"Doubt me more," I say. "This whole mess was my fault. It was one catastrophic mistake after another that escalated way out of control."

"Harry, there's no way you could have foreseen this," Remus says. "Aside from with Time Magic, at least, but from what I've gathered you don't so much see the future as experience it."

"Right, yeah," I say. I look over to Sirius. "He's not really dead, you know. His soul is still tethered to me. We _can_ resurrect him."

"Oh." Sirius' eyes widen. "Oh." He works up his face. "Do you think he realized that when he threw himself in front of a Killing Curse?"

"On some level, probably," I say. "I don't think he really stopped to think overly hard about it in the half a second he had to act, though."

Remus puts a hand on Sirius' shoulder and squeezes. "That he was merely 'severely wounded' and not permanently destroyed does not diminish the nobility of his actions, unexpected as they may have been."

"What happened after I chased Jez'kai into the Veil room?" I ask.

"We won," Remus says. "Eventually, bloodily, and not without casualties. No one walked away from that one unscathed. Some scars aren't likely to ever fully heal. Thank Gaia we won at all, against that sort of force."

"What about Jez'kai?" I wonder.

"Your terrifying house-elf dismembered him," Sirius says.

"He'll be back," Remus says ominously.

I sigh. "Of course he will. We need to find his Horcrux and destroy it before he has a chance to regroup."

"I won't argue that sentiment," Remus says.

I finish up my plate of protein and say, "Hmm. I think I might want to also eat something for breakfast that _isn't_ just meat." A bowl of porridge appears in front of me. "Thanks!" I try to pick up a spoon and fumble with my claws again. "Damnit. I'm going to need to take care of this if I want to be able to handle cutlery."

I take a deep breath and close my eyes. This is ridiculous. I know I'm a shapeshifter. I should be able to have control over my own body, shouldn't I? This should be easy. Some niggling memory in the back of my mind tells me that shapeshifting requires feeling and understanding the being you're turning into. Maybe it's because I don't entirely feel or understand being human? This is stupid.

Gellert strolls into the dining room. "Ah! Sleeping Beauty has graced us with his presence. Good morning."

Sirius snickers. "Morning, Ducky."

I raise an eyebrow. "It's Ducky, now?" I slide my bowl of porridge over to him, giving up on the cutlery for the moment.

"Every Marauder's got to have a pack name," Remus says with a wry grin.

"'Phoenix' wasn't good enough for you," Gellert says, mock-pouting.

"Your Patronus is not a phoenix," Sirius says.

"It's a phoenix duck!" Gellert argues.

" _I_ should be Ducky, though," I say. "The duck was originally _my_ Patronus." I cock my head at Gellert thoughtfully. "I think in another lifetime we once called you Mugglephile."

Gellert opens his mouth to protest, and then says, "I could see that." He chuckles. "Can you guys at least call me 'Phoenix' in public, though? I won't mind whatever you want to call me in private. Not even if it's 'You Bastard'."

"Sure thing, Ducky," Remus says.

"The duck is awesome," Gellert says.

I look between them, smirking. "Just to double-check here, nobody's been modifying anyone's memories? You do know who he is, right?"

"Reincarnation of Gellert Grindelwald, yes," Remus says.

"Or something like that, at any rate," Sirius says. "Time shit gets confusing."

"'Kay, just so we're all on the same page of the Book of Truths here," I say.

"You have at least a dozen people who wanted to talk to you when you woke up," Gellert says.

"Is that all?" I ask.

"I was only counting people who you might actually want to talk to," Gellert says.

"It's so nice to know that my self-appointed secretary has been on the job while I've been unconscious," I say.

"Here to help!" Gellert says brightly. "Also to read your mail, because you get some hilarious mail." He pauses. "A few murder attempts, too, but most of those don't get through the wards."

"Most?" I ask.

"Hermione sent you sugar-free sweets, oxymoronically enough," Gellert says. "If that's not poison, I don't know what is. I gave them to Dobby."

"Well, she means well," I say.

"Also she's still sending us all our missed homework assignments," Gellert says. "I've been doing my homework and having her turn it in just to annoy the professors."

Sirius almost chokes on his coffee. "Trust you to find a way to turn _doing your homework_ into annoying the professors. _This_ is why you're a Marauder."

"Oh yeah, on that note, Albus really wants to talk to you," Gellert says.

"I would imagine," I say.

"And Brax is miffed that you blew his cover," Gellert says.

"He wound up with claw scars on his face that aren't going to heal easily," Remus says. "When Garou claw something, it tends to stay clawed."

"Snape's covering for him," Gellert says.

"Imagine, Snivellus useful for something," Sirius says.

"Is Cassie okay?" I ask.

"She's fine," Sirius assures me. "The bones in her leg all regrew nicely."

"I'm not sure that we have the same definition of the word 'okay', but I suppose that counts," I say.

"Let's see," Gellert says, ticking off on his fingers, "Lucius wants to talk to you, as does, ahem, 'Snivellus'." He smirks. "Luna congratulated us on striking a blow against the Rotfang Conspiracy."

"Rotfang Conspiracy?" Remus asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Luna's conspiracy theories are seeming less wild these days," I say. "I'm not sure just how deep the conspiracy she suggested might go."

"We need that girl in on this," Gellert says. "She knows what's up. Ignore her at your own peril."

"Noted," I say.

"Also, Bellatrix may have said something about her beloved Voldemort—" Gellert begins.

Sirius chokes on his coffee again.

"Yeah, I told her to piss off," Gellert says.

"Of all the people, why did _she_ have to survive that battle?" Sirius wonders.

"Look on the bright side," Gellert says. "Most of the former Death Eaters _didn't_."

"What about the ones who ran away?" I ask.

Gellert whistles innocently. "I may have made an example or two."

Sirius snorts softly. "You know, I always thought the Ministry were just a bunch of corrupt bureaucrats. I didn't actually expect them to be _literally_ corrupt."

"The soul-sucking monsters of doom weren't your first clue?" I ask.

"The experiments with fomori in the basement were a lovely discovery," Gellert says.

Sirius sighs. "It all seems so obvious in hindsight, yeah. You just get used to thinking of things the way they are and not thinking too hard about it until you _can't_ ignore it anymore. And to think, they imprisoned me without a trial for ten years, and I _still_ wasn't going to oppose them directly?"

"Would you have done it if Dumbledore had asked you to?" I ask.

"Yeah, I guess you're right about that," Sirius admits.

"What happened with the Glass Walkers?" I ask. "Did they make it to the site?"

Remus nods. "They were probably the only reason the mess didn't wind up worse than it was. They finished off the remaining Black Spiral Dancers and spun news stories downplaying the impact of the storm and making it sound natural."

"They want to talk to you, too, by the way," Gellert says.

"I'd imagine so," I say. "I promised Millennium Falcon answers. Anyone _else_ want to see me?"

"Nobody important," Gellert says.

"Everyone's important," I argue.

"Pansy Parkinson?" Gellert replies.

I groan. "I _so_ cannot deal with second-year drama right now." I take a deep breath. "I suppose I ought to deal with Dumbledore first."

"Going to meet him in a neutral location?" Gellert asks.

"I'm going to Hogwarts," I say.

"Oh, that's bound to be interesting," Gellert says.

"You want an escort?" Sirius asks.

"I think I need to do this myself," I say. I go over to the fireplace and toss in a pinch of Floo powder. "The Hog's Head!" Nothing happens.

"Floo doesn't work anymore," Sirius says.

"If you wanted to use the Floo, you shouldn't have blown it up," Gellert adds.

I groan. "Okay, I'll take you up on your offer of an escort, then, Sirius."

"You're going to need to learn to Apparate," Sirius says. "Or relearn. Whichever."

"I'll go, too," Remus says.

"I'll stay here," Gellert says. "Me being there would just complicate things."

"Hold down the fort," I say with a nod, and turn to Sirius and Remus, "Let's go."

* * *

I feel like I should be more nervous as the three of us walk up from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts. The clouds are slowly starting to break and tiny, fleeting shafts of sunlight gleam down from above over the lush, green grounds. A smattering of wildflowers have opened their buds, a swath of color across the field. The flowers will not bloom unless it rains, and there can be no rainbow without the storm.

We head through the doors. The Great Hall is nearly empty, with most of the students in classes at the moment. Just as well. I'm not really up to giving a rousing speech gloating over something that was no true victory. We head straight for Dumbledore's office.

I look at the gargoyle blocking the stairs up. "Hello, Dumbledore. I understand that you wished to speak with me. I've come."

At first I think he isn't in his office at the moment, or that he simply doesn't want to answer, but after a minute, the gargoyle slides out of the way to reveal the way in. The three of us climb the stairs and enter the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore sits at his desk, which is practically buried under a pile of paperwork.

"Ah, Harry, my boy," Dumbledore says. "And Sirius and Remus as well. It's good to see you all well. Please, take a seat."

I bite my lip and just sit down. I really don't care to question whether that sentiment is sincere or not at the moment.

"I do not believe that I need to impart upon you the magnitude of what happened in St. Valentine's Day," Dumbledore says.

"I think I have a hint, yeah," I say.

"I've been told that I apparently visited the Ministry of Magic on the previous day and spoke to one Arthur Weasley," Dumbledore says, a twinkle in his eye. "I did not dispute who he believed he saw."

"I would have gotten more of them out if I could," I say. "I've no doubt there were still innocents there, never mind all the Muggles who were impacted by it. I really didn't intend—"

Dumbledore holds up a hand. "Intentional or not, it remains that the Ministry of Magic has been all but destroyed, and it is widely known that you were responsible for it."

I close my eyes and sigh. "Yeah. I know. There's no going back from this, short of time travel. I would have liked nothing better than to stay in school and _not_ start a war, you know."

"And in a way, I am responsible for forcing your hand in the matter," Dumbledore says quietly.

"Your actions may have changed the path, but it was I who chose to walk it," I say.

"And what of Tom and Gellert?" Dumbledore asks.

Sirius practically scowls at him. "Tom jumped in front of a Killing Curse for me. Much as I appreciate you letting us in on what was going on, at this point I don't think it helped anything at all. That man was _not_ the Dark Lord of years past. He may as well have been a completely different man."

"You would forgive him so readily for murdering your friends?" Dumbledore asks.

Sirius is quiet for a moment.

"Revenge won't bring them back," Remus says.

"Readily, no," Sirius says. "But you know what? I _like_ him. And I'm not under any compulsion charms or curses, or any love potions or anything like that, I've checked. And even if I were, or were before, that doesn't explain why he was willing to put himself in harm's way for me." He puts a hand in front of his eyes and shudders, almost sobbing. "He could cast the Patronus Charm, you know. His Patronus was a big dog. His happy thought was _me_. He walked into Azkaban to save me. So, yes. I will damned well forgive him."

Dumbledore gives a small nod and says, "Very well."

Remus says, "As for Gellert… If he didn't admit that he was Grindelwald, you wouldn't know it."

"He is dangerously charming," Dumbledore says.

"And _his_ Patronus is a duck," Remus says. "He acts like a kid. Even if he knows who he was before, I think on some level he _is_ a kid, and that this is a new life for him."

"You weren't down in the Department of Mysteries," I say. "You didn't see him desperately fighting and dying trying to stop the Black Spiral Dancers."

"I don't believe I shall belabor the point any further," Dumbledore says. "What _did_ happen in the Department of Mysteries?"

"Fenrir Greyback wanted the Veil," I explain. "The Umbral gateway to the realm of the dead. He was trying to get to the Nexus, a teleportation device that would have given him easy access to anywhere he wanted, any _world_ he wanted. I destroyed it rather than let it fall into his hands."

"I see," Dumbledore says, adjusting his spectacles. "You destroyed a device that has been there as long as the Ministry, that no one ever truly understood."

"I did," I say, looking him in the eye.

"I would imagine that, something so valuable, you would have wanted for yourself, would you not?" Dumbledore asks.

"I would," I say.

"I don't believe I shall question your motivations further," Dumbledore says. "I apologize for having doubted you."

" _I_ doubt me," I say.

Dumbledore chuckles softly. "Your methods are questionable. Your plans are mad. Your emotions get the better of you. But regardless of that, you _believe_ you are trying to do the right thing."

"I wouldn't still be here otherwise," Sirius says.

"Trust can only ever truly be mutual," I say. "I didn't fully trust you, so you couldn't fully trust me. And likewise you to me." I rub my face. "Trust is a difficult thing at times. There can be no true alliance or friendship without trust."

"Do you still have the Elder Wand?" Dumbledore asks.

I shake my head. "Mad-Eye Moody defeated me and claimed it." I snort softly. "You can have it back if you can take it from him. He's possessed by some sort of bane spirit."

"Are you certain of that?" Dumbledore asks.

"I could sense it," I say. "And another ally corroborated that."

"That is unfortunate," Dumbledore says. "He was a good man. I will have to see if it is still possible to exorcise him. And if not, I will do what must be done, then."

"Remember, though, that he still knows everything he did and will still have some of the same tendencies, if exaggerated to extremes," I say. "He caught me because he accosted 'you' and wanted to know who his girlfriend in fifth year was, that you'd given him detention for snogging in a closet."

"Is that so?" Dumbledore says. "He never got detention for snogging in closets. I do not believe that he even had a girlfriend while in school."

I groan. "Of course."

"I suppose it's too late to just cheerfully go back to school," I say. "Or be involved with magical Britain at all, for that matter." I sigh. "Wishful thinking, I suppose. It's not like I don't have important things to be doing that involve ensuring the safety of the world. I just really, really want to go scrub some cauldrons and pretend the world is sane again."

"What do you plan to do now?" Dumbledore asks.

"After dealing with a few things around here?" I say. "I'm planning to go to the States."

"Ah," Dumbledore says. "You could no doubt sidestep your reputation there."

"I'm not trying to sidestep my reputation," I say. "I know who told Greyback about the Nexus. And I know where to start looking for him."

* * *

Before leaving Hogwarts, we stop by Falk's office and catch him between classes.

"Jesus Christ, kid, you never fucking do anything in half measures, do you," Falk says.

"Well, I hope whatever replaces it is less corrupt," I say. "And less Wyrm-tainted. Preferably without any fomori in the basement."

"Yeeeeah," Falk says. "I don't fucking envy the cleanup there. I got word back from the Glass Walkers about it."

"I believe you wanted to talk to me?" I say.

"Ugh," Falk groans. "At this point, I don't fucking know what to say that would be _enough_. I'm just going to fucking finish up the school year here and head back to the States. Or sooner. They're starting to realize I'm not even a fucking wizard."

"Just starting?" I say, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, but I don't think the students actually fucking care," Falk says. "Since despite not being a fucking wizard, I know more about magic than most wizards."

"I'm planning to head to the States, too," I say.

Falk grunts, and nods. "If you're ever in Selenis, I can hook you up. That's in Maine, by the way. You wouldn't fucking believe how much weird shit happens in Maine."

"I'll believe it," I say.

He holds up a finger. "Right, something to keep in mind if you go to the fucking States— Well, actually now that the fucking Ministry is down and the fucking Obliviators won't be able to do their fucking job anymore. You're going to need to start being careful about fucking paradox."

"Paradox?" I raise an eyebrow. "Well, I _am_ a Time Mage."

"Not like that," Falk says. "Let me explain. If you do fucking magic that's obviously magic, 'vulgar magic' let's call it, the fucking normal people won't believe in it. That can cause a fucking backlash as their version of reality clashes with your own. Reality doesn't fucking like being pushed this way and that."

"I've never heard of that," Sirius says.

"Been in fucking Britain all your life?" Falk says. "That's what the fucking Obliviators really did. Statute of Secrecy my fucking ass. They made sure to dampen the fucking effects of Paradox, like a herd immunity."

"So how're we going to deal with doing magic, then?" Sirius wonders.

"You're coming, too?" I ask.

"Of course," Sirius says. "Couldn't leave my godson going off on an adventure by himself."

I grin faintly. "Thanks."

"When you do magic, make sure that it looks like something that could plausibly happen," Falk says. "Call it 'coincidental magic'. If there aren't any normal people that could find it, Paradox won't apply. But you can't always fucking be sure, so _be paranoid_ and don't use vulgar magic unless you absolutely have to."

I nod. "Understood."

"I'm going to need to fucking make sure my students understand that, too," Falk says. "But since you're probably not coming back to fucking classes, you get the short version. Speaking of, my next class is in a few minutes. You folks had best get the fuck on before anyone sees you and freaks out."

"Yeah," I say. "Let's go."

* * *

_I dream of flying_.

We drive into Cardiff the next morning, and Gellert opts to come along this time. At Buried Cable Sept, the mood is lighter than I might have expected. For all that he seems to be missing half of his right leg, Nine-Toes seems cheerful. He's laughing, sitting next to a tree with his wounded leg laid out in front of him, and a case of firewhiskey at his side.

"Drinking this early in the morning?" Remus says as we head over.

"You bet," Nine-Toes says, waving us over.

"Hey, Nine—uh… Dafydd?" I say. "Nice to see you… mostly… in one piece?"

Nine-Toes laughs heartily. "Yeah, I've got a new name coming for that one." He knocks back a swig of booze. "It was one hell of a fight, let me tell you."

"We're about to head into London," I say. "Everything okay here?"

Nine-Toes waves a hand. "Don't worry about us. Millennium Falcon really wanted words with you, though."

"So I hear," I say.

After chatting a bit, the four of us get back into Remus' car and make for London. The storm has subsided, and people have started to clean things up and recover. There's still downed limbs and debris, but it has at least been moved out of the street. We leave the car in the underground carpark at the Glass Walkers' sept and head in. Come to think, I didn't catch the name of the place. I had other things on my mind at the time.

"Stormseeker!" Falcon says, coming into the lobby to greet us. "And Moony, Padfoot, and Phoenix too. Nice to see the Marauders pack back here."

"And nice to see things getting into order here," I say. "I think I owe you some explanations."

"Damn straight you do," Falcon says. "I'll call in a pizza and we can settle into the rec room for debriefing."

Digit joins us there as well. Falcon pours everyone some coffee and we take seats at the rectangular gray table with curved metal legs.

"How'd things go after I passed out?" I ask.

"We cleaned up and finished off the Black Spiral Dancers," Falcon says, and continues grimly, "We lost Sledgehammer, and we're not sure if Crowbar will recover. Had some losses up top, too."

"I'm sorry," I say.

Falcon shakes his head. "Dying fighting the Wyrm is the way any Garou would hope to go out."

"There's certainly worse ways to go, if you have to go," Sirius says.

"I promised a couple iterations of you an explanation about my powers," I say. "Not sure which, but I keep my promises."

"This is bound to be interesting," Falcon says, grabbing a slice of pizza.

"The Elkandu, a group of dimension-traveling mages, called me a 'Time Mage'," I say. "Although I'm not sure it's 'magic' as this world would understand it at all. I guess you'd say it's more of a 'gift'. I don't know. I don't fully understand how it works myself."

"Dimension-traveling mages," Falcon repeats. "Right, got it."

"Every time I die, I wake up again at the point where I last woke up," I say. "When I do, I only take back my memories. Anyone whose soul is connected to me also goes back."

Gellert raises his hand. "That's me."

"And a couple others," I say.

"So, it's just being unable to die?" Falcon asks.

I shake my head. "There's a few other abilities. Sometimes time seems to slow down in combat."

"That could be useful," Falcon says.

"And I can tell what time and day it is," I snicker. "I can, well, I guess on some level I can _feel_ the movement of the Earth, Moon, and Sun."

"Makes sense," Falcon says. He gestures at my hands. "Eating with your claws, I see?"

"I still haven't figured out how to put them away," I say. "It's pretty awkward, honestly." I look down mournfully at the slightly mangled piece of pizza, and lick some sauce off of my claws.

"I'll see if I can help with that," Digit says. "Here, put the pizza down."

"You can help?" I raise an eyebrow.

"I'm a Theurge," Digit says. "Born under the crescent moon. Dealing with the spiritual side of things in my job. Do you know any meditation exercises?"

"Of course," I say with a crooked grin. "I am, after all, Lexen Skywalker, Jedi Knight."

"Worst Jedi ever," Gellert says quietly with a snicker.

Digit doesn't even bat an eye. "Right, close your eyes and do your Jedi meditation. Center yourself. Seek the balance of the Force."

I nod, close my eyes, take a deep breath and let it out. I am the eye of the storm.

A million years of loss. Of watching friends die over and over. Of watching the world fall apart under me. _Through sorrow, I seek hope._

A million years of hatred. Of seeking revenge for perceived injustices. Of war and pointless strife. _Through rage, I seek justice._

A million years of lies. Of betrayal of friends and allies. Of spinning webs of deception while claiming to be honest. _Through truth, I seek love._

A million years of mistakes. Of choices I wish I hadn't made. Of events I could have prevented. _Through regret, I seek wisdom._

A million years of oblivion. Of losing myself again and again. Of being shackled my own broken mind. _Through life, I seek freedom._

I open my eyes. I glance down and flex my fingers. The claws are gone. "Thanks."

Digit chuckles. "I didn't really do anything."

"You reminded me of what I could do," I say.


	20. Nexus of Souls

I decide to stop by the remnants of the Ministry of Magic building before returning to Cardiff.

"Is something moving in there?" I ask, peering over the dashboard.

"Probably still clearing the place out," Sirius says.

"Are the Muggle repelling charms still up?" I wonder.

"They've got to be," Gellert says.

"Could be wizards or Garou, then," Remus says.

"Let's find out," I say.

We park nearby and head over to the ruins. There's movement, alright, but it's neither human nor furry animal. The whole place is crawling with _spiders_.

"What the shit?" I utter.

"Best be careful," Gellert says.

I crouch down to look at the closest one. The size of my palm, large enough to tell that it's no real spider. It's metallic.

"Weaverlings," Remus explains. "They're probably trying to rebuild the place."

"Robots?" I ask.

"Sort of," Remus says. "Spirits, technically. They weren't built so much as manifested from the primal force of order itself."

"Are they dangerous?" Sirius asks.

"They're probably too focused on their work to even really notice us," Remus says. "But if we stand in one spot for too long, they might mistake us for pieces of debris to be repaired."

The weaverling scurries away, and moments later, a woman emerges from the rubble. A shock of red hair has been tied back into a ponytail, somewhere between blood red and fiery orange, no color that a normal human would possess. Golden eyes settle upon me, eyes that I recognize in an instant.

" _Suzcecoz_ ," I hiss.

"Hello, Stormseeker," Suzy says. "How did I know you'd be involved in this somehow?"

"You know her?" Remus asks.

"Sort of," I say. "Be careful. She's a fomor."

Suzy snorts softly. "No. I'm aligned with the Weaver, not the Wyrm. I'm interested in order, not destruction."

"Is that why you're here?" I ask.

"I heard about what happened here and had to come take a look for myself," Suzy says. "I'll be getting back to my school soon, though."

"You have a school?" I wonder.

"I am Susan Lawson, Headmistress of the Salem Witches' Institute in the United States."

That… sounds distantly familiar.

"This whole place has your magical signature all over it," Suzy says. "I don't care what your reasoning was. I won't stand for this sort of thing. You've severely disrupted the stability of this area, and that will spread ripples across the world."

"They were corrupt," I say.

"I don't _care_ ," Suzy says. "They kept things in order. They even had things running so smoothly that mages were immune to Paradox in Britain. Do you have any idea how much work and organization that would have taken? Do you know how inept MACUSA is? There is no true order! I _envied_ you the way you had things set up here and tried to get things on that level back home, but things on that scale are unfeasible over something as large as a continent. Britain could only get away with some of it by being an island, not to mention having had millennia to entrench themselves. It doesn't help that MACUSA never listens to me."

"The hell is MACUSA?" I ask.

"Magical Congress of the United States of America," Gellert helpfully supplies. "And I won't argue her assessment of them."

"That's a shitty acronym," I say.

"Worse than MOM?" Gellert says.

"People call their mothers 'mum' around here, though," I say.

Suzy looks over at us and rolls her eyes. "You are all idiots. You'd better never come to the US. This nonsense is bad enough. I'm going to try to minimize the damage here and make sure it doesn't affect the rest of the world too severely."

"Why do you care?" I ask.

"I care because I'm _here_ ," Suzy says. "I'm on this world, and I like my position here." She sighs. "I'm hardly about to complain about you disrupting the universe in order to save me from my own mistakes."

"You remember?" I ask.

Suzy nods. "I remember. I don't want to have to stop you from wreaking havoc upon the world. You seem like the sort who will cause chaos wherever you go."

"Got that right," Sirius mutters.

"Are you _trying_ to bring down the Statute of Secrecy?" Suzy asks.

"Absolutely," I say. I gesture to the sky. "This isn't the way I meant to do it, though."

"Ugh," Suzy says. "As if Gellert Grindelwald didn't cause enough problems with that."

"Yeah, he was a right bastard," Gellert says.

"Why are you concerned about that, Suzy?" I ask. "The Elkandu never did that."

"The situation with the Elkandu was completely different," Suzy says. "Nobody ever hated mages or thought of us as different. No religion told them to burn us at the stake. Also you forget that the majority population on the Elkandu worlds was _elves_ , and all elves have some degree of innate magical aptitude."

"I really intended to bring it down without bloodshed," I say.

" _This_ is without bloodshed?" Suzy waves her hand.

"Yeah, well, _this_ was an accident," I say.

Suzy groans. "I knew you were somewhere on this world. If I'd realized you were such a chaos magnet, I'd have been keeping an eye on you sooner. So let this be one warning. I'm watching you now, and I will _not_ stand for this nonsense. This should be worth _more_ than just a warning, but I will _take in good faith_ your assurance that you didn't intend this to happen. Don't make me reconsider."

"Noted," I say.

"I'm going home," Suzy says. "These weaverlings will remain here for now. I can rebuild the building, but I can't replace the government. You better have some new government waiting in the wings to fill in the gap here and make sure there's a smooth transition. I don't want to have to deal with that, too."

"I'll see what I can do," I say.

* * *

"What is that Muggle contraption you are using?" Lucius says distastefully, peering out at Remus' maroon car.

"Automobile," I say. "Floo's not working, I'm terrible at brooms, and I can't Apparate, so I'm making do."

"We could have Side-Along Apparated you here," Sirius says.

I shrug. "Not the point."

"Far be it from me to question my lord's choice of transportation," Lucius drawls.

"How's reorganizing the Ministry going?" I ask.

"As well as can be expected, under the circumstances," Lucius says.

"The building is being rebuilt," I say. "And we're heading for the States. Can you take over Britain in the meantime?"

Lucius gives a smirk. "Of course, my lord. I can have things up and running smoothly again by the time you return."

"Great, thanks," I say.

"Why am I supposed to feel _grateful_ that Lucius Malfoy is going to take over Britain?" Sirius wonders.

"Because he's an improvement over the ones who were previously in charge," I say.

"That's not saying much," Sirius says. "A near-sighted house-elf would be an improvement."

"When are you intending on leaving?" Lucius asks.

"Not sure," I say. "After Equinox, I think. I still have some things to take care of first."

Like resurrecting Tom. I'm not going on any international adventures without him.

* * *

We're heading back to Buried Cable Sept. There's no real reason for it, but I damned well need the breather. These past few weeks have been harrowing.

"Do you know how we can resurrect Tom?" I ask Gellert while in the car. I'd summoned up Tom's ghost earlier with the Resurrection Stone to speak to him and reassure him that we'd get him back in the action again.

"Yeah," Gellert says. "We did bring back his body, and since it was a Killing Curse that took him out, it's undamaged. And we do have the Resurrection Stone on hand."

"Will that work?" Sirius asks.

"I'll find a way to _make_ it work," Gellert says.

"Good," Sirius says quietly.

"Failing all else, there's human sacrifice," Gellert says. "We've got a few humans we want dead anyway, so if we can catch them, that'd make things simple enough."

"Can we sacrifice Bellatrix?" Sirius asks.

We arrive back at the sept and head over to the park.

Nine-Toes gives us a lazy wave. "Welcome back."

I grin and wave. "I think I promised you guys storytime. I'd hate to disappoint."

Cubs eagerly gather around once they hear I'm going to be telling stories, along with a fair number of adults as well. My friends settle in as well. Rispy has appeared as well, lounging and appearing pleased as punch.

"Let me tell you the tale of how I borrowed destiny for the sake of bringing hope to a world," I begin.

Little by little, the scene unfolds around me, memories playing in my mind as I recap events that seem simultaneously so long ago and just like yesterday. For all the inherent differences in the base parameters of the two universes, the story did not start off that differently. Albus Dumbledore found me and recognized me as an alternate universe counterpart to Harry Potter, and I took his place to fulfill a bullshit prophecy.

Each time I reach a point where I'd die, the cubs ask, "That's not the end, is it?"

"Of course not," I say with a grin. "I'm still here, aren't I?" I continue the story.

It's too much to tell in one day. I have time. This is important to me. Day after day, I tell a little bit more of the story. Basilisks and hippogriffs and dragons… I'm sure the story only seems half-real to them. Fanciful tales of what might have been. Finally, I come to the part where I contracted lycanthropy.

"Being a shapeshifter was an _infection_?" Twice-Bitten says incredulously.

"It was a strange alternate universe," I say. "I'll bet there were lots of other subtle changes I didn't run across, too."

"On behalf of my other self," Remus says. "I'm sorry for being so careless."

I wave it off. "It's not like I really minded, even if it did complicate things a bit."

I continue the story, up to the point where that loop comes to an abrupt, unexpected end.

"You can't leave it there!" a girl shrieks. "The story isn't over yet!"

"It's not," I say with a chuckle.

"But what about Sirius?" she asks.

I gesture to where he's laying out beside the firepit in dog form. "He's right there."

"But he doesn't remember any of that, does he?" she goes on.

Sirius cocks an ear and pants softly.

"Maybe not directly, but he knows now," I say.

"In some way, I feel like _I_ almost remember it, from hearing you," Remus says.

"Maybe we can find a way to actually merge the memories of our alternate selves," Gellert says.

"All things are that ever were," I say quietly. "I suppose in that way, it's not just my own memories that were lost."

"Damn right," Gellert says.

"Go on, go on!" a boy says. "The story's not over yet!"

I laugh softly. "The story's never over. There are no happy endings. There are no endings at all. There's only eternity."

"And that's where you remember Suzy from," Remus says.

I nod. "The first point I encountered her, at least. I never did wind up seeing the Salem Witches' Institute. Maybe I'll drop by sometime just to annoy her."

"Tell us another story!" says the girl.

"Alright, alright," I say. "I think I've got time for one more story. Let me tell you, then, about how Sirius and I uncovered the legacy of the Shapers…"

* * *

"So, are you, or are you not, Harry Potter?" Sirius wonders.

"Alternate universe counterpart," I say.

"Time shit is weird and confusing," Sirius says. "Especially when it's easier to believe that you're Harry Potter from the future than that, in some other timeline, you were actually the illegitimate son of Darth Vader. What the fuck is up with that, even. If it weren't for everything else I've seen, I'd think you're shitting me."

"That's my existence for you," I say.

"Does it even really matter at this point?" Gellert asks.

"You've got a point there," Sirius says. "Between going to movies with Grindelwald, messing around with Voldemort, and watching the Ministry of Magic get blown up, it's getting hard to bat an eye at anymore weirdness." He grins crookedly. "Now, promise me one thing. You've already dragged me into this all. _Way_ in over my head. You rescued me from Azkaban. You took me with you once before, you said. You're sure as _fuck_ not leaving me behind this time."

"Traveling between worlds?" I ask.

Sirius nods. "Absolutely."

"Same goes for me," Remus adds.

"Why?" I ask.

"Do you even need to ask?" Sirius wonders.

"You're our pack," Remus says.

Sirius nods. "Yeah. That. You think there'd be much else in this world for us if you guys all left?"

"Well, you've got each other," I say. "And the Bone Gnawers. And—" I snicker softly, "—your dear cousins."

Sirius makes a face. "I'll dearly love to have at least an ocean between me and my cousins, much less the whole of the Void."

"There's certainly worse motivations," I say.

"Did you ever think to write your stories down?" Sirius asks. "Maybe that would help remember them."

"I do keep journals," I say.

"You should write down what you remember of what came before, too, though," Remus says.

I nod. "It's a good idea. I might do that."

* * *

All things considered, I wouldn't have been surprised if Luna Lovegood lived in a giant boot. As it is, the house appears to be a simple stone tower, at least on the outside. Remus drives up to the base of the hill and parks the car nearby, next to another Muggle car, this one dark blue. The four of us climb out of the maroon automobile and head up the hill. It wouldn't do to run over the rickety fence that looks like it's already likely to fall down under a stiff breeze.

A blond man in worn purple robes comes out to the front steps to meet us. "Welcome! I'm Xenophilius Lovegood. Please come inside. Your friends are already here."

"Oh?" I say.

We step inside into a circular room. Abraxas sits off to one side, sipping a cup of tea, angry, half-healed claw scars swiped diagonally across his face. Luna, Cassie, and Hermione sit next to an adult couple I don't recognize. They pause their conversation when the four of us come inside, and Luna smiles brightly and waves to us.

"Hermione. Abraxas," I say. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Where else would we be?" Hermione says with a grin. "Harry, meet my parents."

"Well met, Mr. and Mrs. Granger," I say.

"Mum, Dad, this is Harry Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Gerard Boltwood."

Gellert peers over at Xenophilius. "Say, is that the Deathly Hallows symbol?"

Xenophilius holds up his necklace. "Yes, it is! I'm glad to see someone recognizes it for what it is. Some mistakenly believe it's only the symbol of Gellert Grindelwald."

"Yeah, he totally appropriated it," Gellert says.

"It's good to see you all well," Luna says. "I've been worried, Stormseeker. Your timestream has evaded many of the conversations I wanted to have with you."

"Sorry," I say. "Things came up."

"I understand," Luna says. "I'm glad to see you're still wearing my scarf."

"It would be awfully rude to leave it behind when visiting your house," I say with a grin.

"I tried to warn you about the Shadow," Luna says.

I put my face in my palm. "I should have paid more attention to you."

"You totally should," Cassie agrees.

Abraxas clears his throat. "Luna said you needed a Circle of Nine. That's why we've come."

"Circle of—" I say haltingly. "Oh. You realize that this wasn't just for one ritual, don't you? That it's permanent?"

"They know," Luna says. "I explained it to them."

"It's why we're here," Mrs. Granger says. "We had to see what our daughter was getting involved in."

"But it means you'll wind up leaving your lives here behind," I say.

"I don't _have_ a life here," Abraxas says. "I was just shoehorned into my family. I was never supposed to be here."

"You told them?" I ask.

"No reason not to, now," Abraxas says.

"There isn't any 'supposed' to be," I say. "The world is what you make of it. There's no plan or reason to it."

"I wanted to see the multiverse," Luna puts in. "All the strange and wonderful things to be discovered."

Xenophilius nods. "I shall miss her dearly, but this is what she wants, and another opportunity like this will never come in a thousand lifetimes. I do hope she'll stop by to visit from time to time to tell me all about the things she's seen."

"I can't argue that," I say.

"You promised to take me with you sometime," Luna says.

"I have no idea how you remember or know the things you know sometimes," I say.

"I see… ripples," Luna says. "I hear echoes. Your arrival in this world wasn't quiet. Time flies began swarming."

"Time flies," I repeat flatly.

"They're supposed to go straight," Luna says. "When you showed up, they started zipping around back and forth, in zigzags and curves."

"I guess that must be confusing," I say, then look to Hermione and her parents. "What about you?"

Mr. Granger looks to Hermione, then over to me. "Hermione tells us you're good people. I don't know what to think of letting her go off on a cross-dimensional trip with her school friends, though."

I chuckle. "It's a bit much to take in, isn't it."

"No moreso than magic being real in the first place," Mrs. Granger says. "I don't know what to believe anymore. This isn't our world."

I shake my head. "Your world just has more things in it than you'd dreamed."

"On some level, we never really believed," Mr. Granger says. "She just went off to an expensive boarding school. Even though they _showed_ us magic, it was hard to believe."

"I know how that goes," Sirius says. "I might have grown up around magic, but now I've seen things beyond _my_ sphere of experience that I'm having to adjust to."

"It's nice to pretend, though," Mrs. Granger says. "That our daughter was merely a gifted child, and not _what_ those gifts were. In some ways, I just wish the world would go back to being normal again."

"You don't want to know how deep the rabbit hole goes?" Gellert asks. "Not even a little bit curious?"

"No," Mr. Granger says. "I'm too old to adjust to new things."

I chuckle. "You have no idea."

"Are you sure about this?" Remus asks.

"No, not really," Mr. Granger says. "But much as it pains me to admit it, I don't think Hermione would ever really be happy in the 'Muggle' world, as you call it."

"She's thirteen," Mrs. Granger says. "I don't think she's old enough to make critical life decisions by herself at this point, no matter how intelligent and mature she is."

"I don't want to see her get hurt," Mr. Granger adds.

I look over at them quietly for a moment. "If she does this, she'll be immortal. Nothing will _ever_ be able to hurt her in a way she can't recover from, not even death."

"It's not like I won't be able to visit, either," Hermione says. "I'll be able to come back here anytime I want, right?"

I'm not sure how yet, but we'll figure that out, I'm sure. "We'll make sure of that, of course."

"What about school?" Remus asks.

Hermione makes a face. "I think I can learn more from you guys than I could from Hogwarts, honestly."

"She's got a point there," Gellert says.

"Immortality is hard to argue with," Mrs. Granger says. "And I know she trusts you. But can _we_ trust you?"

"What would convince you?" I ask.

"I don't know," Mrs. Granger says.

I drop to one knee in front of Hermione. "I swear on my life and my magic that I will never betray you, Hermione Granger. Across time and space, I promise loyalty and friendship. I will always respect your wishes. I will always have your back when you need it. So let it be."

The air seems to _snap_ with magic. I rise. Hermione looks at me wide-eyed, but her parents just blink in confusion.

"I suppose I can't argue that your heart is in the right place," Mrs. Granger says. She hugs Hermione. "Please be careful out there. Don't let anyone pressure you into anything you don't want to do."

Hermione groans a little. "Don't worry, Mum. I can hex anyone who tries."

"Alright," Mrs. Granger says with a sad smile. "Do come and visit sometimes, but I think, unlike Mr. Lovegood, we can do without the riveting tales of adventure."

"We'd best be off, then," Mr. Granger says. "I trust she'll be in good hands."

"You're not staying to watch the ritual?" I ask.

Mr. Granger shakes his head. "It's all beyond me. Besides, Hermione mentioned something about _disbelief_ interfering with magic. I'm sure it would work better without any of us 'Muggles' around."

"Yeah, that may be true," Gellert admits.

The Grangers stand, and Hermione and I accompany them outside. Once out the door, though, Mrs. Granger pulls me aside and says to Hermione, "Give us a moment, please."

"What is it?" I ask as I and Hermione's mum walk around the unkempt lawn.

"Forgive me for being blunt," Mrs. Granger says. "But do you have romantic interest in my daughter?"

I clear my throat. "No. I'm sorry if I gave that impression. I'm gay. I have romantic interest in _Gerard_."

"Oh…" Mrs. Granger says. "And is he also a time traveler and older than he looks?"

"Yes, ma'am," I say. "I'd be very uncomfortable getting into a relationship with someone who was _actually_ an adolescent."

Mrs. Granger nods. "I'm glad to hear that." She glances off toward her car, where her husband and daughter are waiting. "Please take good care of my daughter. It's really no different than seeing her off to Hogwarts, in a way. Just an education that involves more traveling. She'll enjoy it."

I chuckle. "That's one way to look at it. I'll make sure she has the best educational opportunities available to her."

We head down to the car, and Hermione says one more goodbye to her parents before they get in their car and slowly drive off, leaving her there.

"You know, it's a relief, in some ways," Hermione says as we walk back up the hill. "Much as I hate to say so."

"Were they overbearing?" I ask.

"Sometimes," Hermione says. "Mostly they spent a lot of time being busy. I wouldn't say it in front of them, but I think they were glad to see me go off to boarding school, where they didn't have to worry about me anymore. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure they love me very much. They just were never really sure how to be _parents_ , it seemed like. Do you know what I mean?"

"Not really, but I'll take your word on it," I say with a reassuring smile.

"And now I'm looking forward to being away from Hogwarts," Hermione says. "If myself from two years ago heard me say that, she'd be gaping at me incredulously. It's been… tense there. More and more this past year, the last two months especially. Ever since Imbolc, hate for Muggleborns has skyrocketed."

"I'm sorry," I say.

"I'd say it's not your fault, but it _really_ was," Hermione says with a wry grin. "But it's okay. I'll forgive you, since you're making it up to me."

I laugh softly. "That and more."

* * *

Over Ottery St. Catchpole vaults a sky slowly growing blue in the pre-dawn light, streaked with wispy white clouds.

"Those are cirrus clouds," Hermione says, noticing me looking up at the sky. "They mean the weather is changing."

"For good or for bad?" I ask.

"Not sure it could get any _worse_ ," Sirius says.

"I heard about the Valentine's Day Storm," Hermione says.

"You weren't at the center of it," I say. "It was probably ten times worse than anything you heard."

"I saw the debris," Hermione says. "A month later and they were still picking up the pieces."

"I have everything set up for the ritual," Cassie says. "Is everyone ready to begin at dawn?"

There's nods from around the circle.

I pull out the Resurrection Stone and turn it over in my hands. Tom appears, in a translucent form. "We're going to need you for this one," I tell him.

"You're going to bond them all at once?" Tom's ghost asks. "Risky."

"It'll be fine," Cassie says. "We've laid out the runes and the foci, set up power enhancers, and it's almost dawn on the Spring Equinox. That should be the optimal time for this."

Tom nods. "I trust that you know what you're doing."

The runes are drawn out onto circles of small stones in the backyard of the Lovegood residence. Staying the night here had been a little crowded, but necessary. We had to be up well before dawn to get everything set up. This time, it wasn't just me, or Cassie, or Gellert doing all the runework and setup. _All_ of us pitched in in some way. Hermione and I drew up the designs. Gellert and Cassie proofread them and made some adjustments. Abraxas wrote up the words to be spoken. I corrected a few of his translations. Luna, who knew little about runes, collected the pebbles to be used as runestones. Sirius copied runes from a parchment. Remus helped lay them out in circles. Even Rispy, who didn't have wizard magic at all, collected exotic flowers from around the world to use as foci. The teamwork was as much an important part of the ritual as the ritual itself.

Tom looked over the setup and, while unable to touch anything directly, pointed out a few minor adjustments. Some flowers had been blown off in a breeze, and a few pebbles were misaligned.

"Do we all remember the words?" I ask. "Do we understand what they mean?"

Everyone nods.

It's Rispy who I place in the center of the circle. The hub, the nexus, the stable foundation from which everything turns. I circle slowly around the outside perimeter, moving clockwards, sunwards, around the circumference, a ring of infinity. I never expected things to wind up like this, but I remind myself what I always warn people about expectations. Why this group, I wonder? Why did it come down to these people, and not Ron, or Blaise, or Draco, or anyone else? The answer comes to me in a moment. These people, as I do, have no true place in this world, not now. Perhaps they did once. Perhaps they would have found one under other circumstances. But perhaps not. Perhaps each of us were separate from the world in some way, and that only with one another did we find true companionship.

At the south point stands Sirius, representing the position of Fire. Emotional, passionate, both in love and in rage. An inveterate prankster, always quick with a joke, but never one to think things through too hard. I loved him, once. I still do. I love each and every one of them. And I wouldn't trade them for the world.

Tom hovers in the southwest corner, in the position of Shadow and Spirit. He's changed a lot, over years and over lifetimes. Perhaps salvation might come of love. Or perhaps only happiness. Is there really a difference between them? It's been a long road getting to this point, in some ways feeling like we've come full circle, and in other ways it feels like nothing is the same and will ever be the same again.

To the west, Remus stands in to represent Earth. He may have hidden away in shame after my parents' deaths, but I don't think he'll run away again. Not when he has a place here and people who have complete faith in him. Trust can only ever be mutual, after all.

At the northwest, the place of Mind, stands Hermione. Lover of knowledge and seeker of truth. At one point I might have hesitated about bringing someone who is truly a child in on this, but not now. She deserves better. She deserves a chance to live and learn all that can be learned.

Abraxas takes the north point, representing Frost. Cool and calm and collected, a voice of reason in a sea of madness. The one I had not expected, and yet the one I might need most of all. From what I've learned of him, his marriage was lonely and loveless, arranged for the sake of continuing a pure bloodline. He took to his new life gladly, without looking back. He always seemed to wish for something more.

Luna stands dreamy-eyed at the northeast, in the place of Water. Always seeming like she has a foot in this world and in the realm of dreams. She's exhibited wisdom and sight beyond her years, and gone with the flow of untold amounts of weirdness. I don't know how deep those eyes can see, but I hope she will see us through.

In the eastern point stands Cassie, representing Wind. She took to the life of a child better than any of us, vibrant and unreserved. A woman who devoted her life to knowledge, but found that knowledge alone was not enough. Discovering her was a breath of fresh air. Perhaps she, if anyone, could teach us to fly. She carries us and supports us with kindness and inspiration, the breath of life.

And finally, in the southeast, representing Lightning, stands Gellert. Was he always the one who was closest to my heart? No, perhaps not, but things don't always turn out the same way. I have no complaint. Impatient, impulsive, tactless, willing through what needs to be done without hesitation. A joy to have by my side. Even as a storm might cause destruction, so too might electricity bring forth advances in technology beyond that which could have been imagined. In Torn Elkandu, while the other elemental points held places that made sense, Lightning's Road ended at the Junkyard. I never understood that. But now I realize, it wasn't merely _junk_. It was a world of progress unknown to the Elkandu.

The first rays of the sun begin to break over the eastern horizon.

"Friends," I begin. "We gather here on this morning to pledge ourselves to one another. To join our souls together in eternal friendship. We who stand together against the winds of time and space."

I walk around the edge of the circle, wand held to the sky. As I reach each person, they begin chanting the lines we've written and memorized, except for Rispy who remains silent. Each person recites the words of the rite from beginning to end, but every line is being spoken simultaneously by someone.

"We've come to this for different reasons," I say. "To see all that can be seen. To learn all that can be learned. To bring freedom to the oppressed. To bring hope to the downtrodden. To love. To live. To dream. To fly."

I complete another turn of the circle. The runestones begin to glow as power slowly builds up. I switch my wand to my right hand and hold it out over them as I make the final circle.

"And so, to that end," I go on. "In the name of all the gods in all the worlds. Let us share those hopes and dreams, hand in hand."

As I pass by each person, I feel magic tugging at my soul. Not painfully, but weaving together like a tapestry. There need be no violent tearing of souls to rip off pieces and thrust them into another being or object. We found another way. We spent weeks on this ritual, or longer. We had to make sure it would be stable. We had to be certain that it would not weaken or unravel at any pressure placed upon it. This time, we're doing it right.

"I call upon ETERNITY!"

Three circles of runes light up at once, sending a kaleidoscope of colors into the air. Soul-deep warmth blankets me. Each of us is here because we want to be here, because we've found abiding friendship in another that surpasses mere mortality and the confines of a single world. We're all kindred spirits in more ways than one. And now, we are ten as one. The tapestry has been woven. There's no turning back from here.

And I wouldn't have it any other way.

The light fades, but the feelings remain. No longer does it feel like I'm simply dragging along flotsam through the seas of time. This goes beyond mere Soul Bonds.

"The ritual has gone flawlessly," Tom's ghost observes. "Better than I could have expected. Perhaps I can feel it more acutely as a wraith."

"I believe what you feel is accurate," Abraxas says.

"This is incredible," Hermione says.

"Totally radical," Gellert confirms.

Sirius lets out a deep breath and looks over his left shoulder to Tom. "I can feel it."

Luna simply smiles knowingly and looks over to me. No words are necessary.


End file.
